I wanna know why!
by sams1ra
Summary: I wanna know why you killed my mom and Jess. I wanna know what it is you want from me! Well, careful, Sammy. Sometimes, not knowing is so much better, because once you know, you can't take it back.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. Sad, isn't it? So, now that we've established that, I'm not going to repeat it!

A/N: This is AU, I guess. Starts a little while after the season finale, after the guys had had time to bounce back, so the whole season is fair game. Also, all the places mentioned are imaginary.

I wanna know why!

Chapter One

"Sam, are you okay? Sam? Sammy, can you hear me?" the words barely reached through the pain. The most he could do was try to keep breathing, and hope that his brain won't explode. Maybe that would be better. It would probably hurt less.

Ever so slowly, the haze of pain began to lift and Sam was once again aware of the worried eyes that watched his every move, the strong hands that held him, trying to comfort him and ease his pain.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, still squinting, his fingers still pressed hard against his temples. His voice sounded weak and unconvincing, even to his own ears. He shook his head stumbling back to the bed with Dean's help. His father's eyes were still on him with a mixture of trepidation and apprehension.

"Are you okay?" Sam attempted a smile, thanking Dean for the glass of water, and waiting for the painkillers Dean was still looking for.

"Was it another vision?" his father asked.

"Yeah." Sam said, taking the pills from Dean and swallowing them quickly. The migraines were really starting to get unbearable. Dean quickly turned off the lights, pulling the curtains close, and Sam couldn't have been more grateful for that.

"What did you see?"

"Dad, give him a second, would you?" Dean interrupted quickly, before Sam had had the chance to answer. Sam took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"No, it's okay, I'm alright." He said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could tell Dean was looking worriedly at him even though his eyes were closed. "I saw it again. It's happening again." Sam said.

"The Demon?" John asked and Sam nodded.

This was his forth vision since the accident. The fifth of a kind since Salvation. They were still out of his control, still painful and still left his head pounding for hours after they ended. He really started to hate them. He never asked for it, never wanted it, any of it. He didn't want this life. All he ever wanted was to be like everyone else. To be normal.

Figures, with his luck, that he would be the one stuck with the freaky power. And a useless one at that. The one time he really needed it, the one time he was desperate to use it, seeing his brother torn apart in front of him, it had failed him. He couldn't help Dean, and his brother was still paying for it. Even five months later, Dean was still paying for his incompetence.

He denied it, of course, insisting he was all right, refusing any help, but Sam knew his brother better than that. He saw through his brother's mask. It wasn't that difficult a job now, that Dean would stop, breathless, in the middle of a simple hunt, or even pass out from exhaustion. Sam had nearly had a heart attack the first time that had happened.

"You okay there, Sammy?" Dean asked, and Sam realized he had just spaced out.

"What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He said, and then turned to his father. "Yes, it was the Demon. It's after another baby." He said. John raised a brow, running his hand over his face, and Sam could clearly read the anger and disappointed on his face. They could have ended it, stopped the demon, but Sam couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. Not with Dean using what were almost his last breaths begging him not to kill their father.

"It's picking up the pace." John said somberly. "It's planning something."

"Do you know where?" Dean asked, already reaching for the car keys. Sam eyed him a moment. Dean shouldn't be driving. Then again, with the visions and the migraines, he couldn't drive, even if Dean would let him.

Sam closed his eyes, trying to remember every detail of his recent vision. A bedroom, not a nursery this time. Those people were either poor or overprotective. The baby's crib was in the parents' bedroom. That was odd. Another diversion from the demon's usual MO. There were too many of those lately. Sam tried to forget about what he didn't know and concentrate about what he did. The bedroom. There was a nightlight, wind chimes with tiny stars, a few stuffed animals in the crib, tons of diapers… And pictures. Sam focused on those. They were happy pictures; from graduation, from the wedding, from the hospital with the new baby. There was love and happiness in every picture. And in one of them, there was something he could use. A store that had a sign that said 'The best pie in Armain, Texas."

"In Texas." Sam said, getting to his feet.

"Texas?" John asked, and Sam nodded. "You sure?" Sam nodded again.

"Why?" Dean asked, and then understood even before his father answered. The vision before last was about Texas. They found nothing there, and they were too late to help the people that called John's cell, leaving a distressed message.

"So what if it's the same place. We can't take the chance now, can we?" Sam asked. "I mean, if it's there…" his voice trailed off. "What?"

"Sam, it just… I don't know, you've been having an awful lot of visions lately." Dean said as carefully as he could, but it still irritated Sam. They didn't believe him. Or rather, they believed he was having the visions, they just no longer believed the visions were leading them anywhere. And that was downright exasperating.

"So what, we're going to ignore this vision just because we've already been to Texas?" Sam asked.

"No, of course not!" Dean said quickly, but John's eyes spoke differently. Sam stared at his father.

"What are we waiting for?" he asked. John ran his fingers through his hair.

"It's half way across the country, Sam." He said in a tired voice, and Sam only got angrier.

"So what? Since when has that ever bothered you?" he demanded.

"We should be smart about this." John said, "No point going all the way there just to find that there's something going on in New York or something, right?"

"What? Dad…"

"We'll do the research first. We know the pattern, we know what to look for."

"And they could be dead by the time we get there!" Sam shouted, "We have to leave! Now!"

And they did. Well, at least, Sam and Dean did. Their father stayed behind. Sam didn't really care. He didn't especially miss the way his father treated him - like he was still ten years old, and could barely hold a gun. He knew the job, he has been doing it for a long time, and he was damn good at it. He and Dean had had a rhythm of their own, they didn't need their dad around to do what needed to be done. They were a team, and a good one.

Sam suspected Dean didn't mind leaving dad behind, either. There was something different about Dean ever since what happened at the cabin. He was quieter, preferred to spend more and more time on his own. Sam tried talking to him more than once about what had happened, about what the demon had said. Dean would just shrug him off, saying he knew demons lie and that he couldn't care less about what that demon had said, but Sam knew better than to believe him. Dean wasn't over it, and like the irritating stubborn ass that he was, he refused to talk about it.

Sam was staring out the window at the blur of scenery outside. It was all the same. Houses, countryside, fields – he had seen it all before. The silence was annoying, though, so he turned on the radio. That was another thing. Dean lost his mullet rock tapes. Sam reminded himself again to get his brother all the CDs with all his favorite music. He kept meaning to, but he always forgot.

"So, that vision of yours, did it happen to come with an address?" Dean asked, breaking the long silence. Sam stared at him. He couldn't believe he even thought about it, but he missed his brother's quips. Dean and serious didn't go well together outside the hunt. There was something on his brother's mind, and Sam would get it out of him, if he wanted to or not.

"Have we ever been that lucky?" Sam asked, and Dean didn't answer, he just kept staring at the road ahead. Sam sighed and returned to staring out the window. _Come on_, he thought, _couldn't have handed him an easier line_. He had been expecting the obvious – the shit eating grin and the old glint in his brother's eyes as he looked at Sam and told him that he had been lucky plenty of times in his life, and that it was about time little brother started following suit. But Dean didn't say anything.

It took them a day to reach the town. Sam had been hoping for another vision, so he could know which house, which family was about to get attacked, but of course, his 'shining' only shone when he didn't want it to. When he needed it… well, the scars on Dean's chest and the way the glint had disappeared from his brother's eyes were a constant reminder to what happened when his new powers failed him. When Sam had failed.

* * *

"Dude, you're starting to creep people out. At least pretend you're talking on your cell or something. Staring at people's houses isn't the best way to convince them you're not a psycho." Dean said, yanking Sam from his reverie. Sam was supposed to check the neighborhood, see if anything looked suspicious while Dean searched for the other signs – the freak weather changes, animal deaths, temperature changes, electrical storms and such. 

"Found anything?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, there's a restaurant just a couple of blocks away." Dean said and Sam glowered at him. "No. No temperature fluctuations, no cattle deaths, no animal deaths. Nothing." Dean said, "I hate to say it, Sammy, but I think you're shining thing is out of tune. When was the last time you had a professional check it?" he said seriously, but then smirked at Sam's annoyance. That smirk was worth it, though. For a fleeting moment, the old Dean was back.

"Look, I know what I saw. It's coming." He insisted and Dean nodded lightly, looking around.

"Well, it's not coming until nighttime." He said, turning back, "Let's go eat."

"No, I'm not hungry." Sam said, still looking around at the people going by. It would be a small house. Maybe even an apartment. He had to keep looking.

"Yeah, well, suit yourself." Dean said and left. Sam stared after his brother, shaking his head. Dean's changed, and he didn't like it. He followed Dean to the restaurant even though he wasn't hungry. Dean was right after all, the Demon only came out at night.

Sam ordered a sandwich and watched as Dean started reading a local newspaper. It almost felt like Dean was ignoring him. Sam hated that. Well, luckily, he had years of practice on how to make his big brother pay attention. Sam smirked, staring intently at Dean. Dean glanced at him over the paper and kept reading. That was just fine. Sam kept staring. Dean gave him another glance, and Sam smiled innocently.

"What?" Dean asked, a little irritated.

"Nothing." Sam said, but kept staring.

"Then why're you staring?" Dean demanded, lowering the paper.

"I'm not staring." Sam said innocently, never taking his eyes off his brother.

"Well, cut it out!" Dean said irritably. Sam blinked, but that's the best big brother was going to get out of it. "I mean it, Sam, stop it!" Dean snapped in a tone of voice that made it clear that he wasn't kidding. Sam sighed and started on his sandwich. Humorless Dean was not a fun Dean. A sudden thought crossed Sam's mind as he chewed his food. Maybe Dean was never really a smartmouth. Maybe it was just the Impala, and now that it was gone, the source of his brother's quips was gone. Sam sighed again.

He had given Dean a toy Impala when he got out of the hospital. It took Sam two weeks to find a tiny car that resembled his brother's car so much, but apparently, Dean didn't like the gesture. He left the car at the hospital, never even bothering to take it out of its plastic casing. Sam was actually irked about it.

"D'you find anything in the paper?" Sam asked eventually.

"I might if you stopped interrupting me." Dean snapped. He took a part of the paper, handing it to Sam. "Here, why won't you make yourself useful?" Sam glowered at his brother. He was about to say something when Dean's cell started ringing. Dean reached in his jacket pocket, taking his cell out. He gave one glance at it, and then set it on the table.

"You're not going to answer that?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged. Sam frowned, reaching for the still ringing phone. The caller ID said Unknown. Sam put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Sammy?" Sam glanced at Dean, who was still skimming through the obits section.

"Yeah, dad." Sam answered a couple of seconds later. Dean not answering the phone. That was new.

"You and your brother alright?" John asked. _No, we're not. Dean's not, but you know that_, Sam thought, but what he said was,

"Yeah. We haven't found anything yet, still looking."

"Well, I have." John said, and Sam straightened.

"What?"

"Freak electric storm, temperature fluctuations, the whole nine yards. The Demon's coming." John said somberly.

"Where?" he asked, tense.

"Oregon." John said, "I'm already half way there."

"Dad…" Sam started, but hissed at the sudden pain behind his eyes. He gasped, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes as the images span before his eyes.

TBC

A/N: So, a new story. I'm not used to write from Sam's POV, and let me tell you, it's not easy. I hope I did the characters justice. What do you think, should I go on, or cut my losses?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow, first of all, let me thank you for your support. You really gave me the motivation to keep going, so here I am, updating. This is a longer, hopefully more enjoyable chapter. Drunk Sam is so much easier to write than normal Sam :)

Enjoy, and keep me motivated...

Chapter Two

"Here," Dean said, handing Sam a towel wrapped around a few ice cubes. Sam thanked him, putting the iced towel on his forehead and groaning. "That bad, huh?" Dean asked, sitting on the bed next to Sam. Sam didn't answer. The migraine was terrible. "So what'd you see this time?" Dean asked, his voice booming and hollow and twisted through the pounding in Sam's head. Sam still didn't answer, fearing that talking might be the thing that would finally make his head explode. It took ten more minutes for the pain to recede enough to allow Sam to sit straight and be able to answer his brother's question.

"Same vision as before. Still here, somewhere. But I don't think it's the Demon." Sam said, still squinting his eyes.

"It's not?" Dean asked, not sounding too surprised.

"No. Dad said he found a lead on the thing. In Oregon. He's after it." Sam said, risking opening his eyes to see his brother's reaction. Unfortunately, Dean had his back turned to him. Sam closed his eyes again and rested his head against the pillow.

"So, if it's not the Demon, what is it?" Dean asked a moment later.

"I don't know," Sam said, and forced himself up. "Dean, what are we going to do? I mean, if dad thinks he picked up a trail, we need to head up there, help him. But on the other hand, I can't just pretend these visions don't mean anything… Something's happening here, something we need to stop." He said, feeling torn. His visions have been off lately, but could he really take a chance?

"Then we stay." Dean said, sensing his kid brother's hesitation. "We're already here, might as well make sure the coast is clear." He said, sorting through his laundry.

"Yeah, but what about dad?" Sam insisted.

"Dad's a big boy, Sam. He can take care of himself." Dean said, not making eye contact.

"Yes, I know, but we have the Colt." Sam said. At that, Dean glanced at him, giving him a meaningful look. Sam shook his head slightly, not really understanding. Dean let out a sigh.

"Dad's got the Colt, Sam." He explained.

"What? But I thought… We were going after it, you said you had the gun!" Sam accused, a little confused.

"Yeah, well, I lied." Dean said dryly, looking away. "Sue me." And just as Sam was about to say something, Dean smirked. "Not gonna be that easy though, I am dead, remember?" he said, looking so smug Sam tossed a pillow at him, but Dean quickly blocked it. Sam was about to argue, he was more than just irritated by the fact that no one seemed to believe him anymore. They were just trying to humor him. Well, that's not going to fly. What if it really were the Demon? How could they have killed it if their dad had the Colt? Was Sam supposed to just sit there and watch a rerun of what had happened back at the cabin, watch his brother die because their father had had other priorities? But just as he was about to actually say something, Dean shouldered his duffle. "I'm gonna go wash these. I've got nothing clean to wear. Want me to get you something on my way back?" Dean asked, already at the door. Sam looked exasperatedly at him. Dean shrugged, and left.

* * *

Sam tried bringing the subject up a few times, but hey, it was Dean Winchester he was talking to – master of subject changing and avoidance. It was so annoying. Sam had spent an hour rehearsing the conversation in his head, thinking of every possible way to deflect his brother's tries to change the subject. He was pretty sure that finally, they'll talk about what needed to be talked. If Dean wouldn't talk about his health or his obvious issues, he would damn well talk about why he lied and told Sam he had had the Colt. This wasn't a game, they all knew that much. The hunt meant volumes to his brother, no way would he mess around. No, Sam was finally going to get the answers he wants. One way or the other. 

It only took two minutes for Dean to change the subject though, distracting Sam so much it took him well over an hour to remember what he really wanted to talk about. _Damn_, Sam thought, _I wouldn't want to go up against Dean in court. He'd get the devil himself a not guilty verdict if it meant avoiding any real, personal issues_.

A week had passed since they arrived Texas, and Dean was growing bored. Their father had gotten to Oregon too late. Sam knew for sure, because otherwise, his old man would have called by now. He didn't answer Sam's calls, and truthfully, Sam couldn't tell if he were worried or relieved. If his father had gotten there too late, he would probably be royally pissed. They had a chance to end it, and Sam didn't take it. He knew. Every kid that Demon touched now, every family it destroyed was on Sam's head. Sam could have stopped it, and he didn't. Somewhere deep down, he began to wonder if he had made the right choice. He tried talking to Dean about that, too. That was a mistake. The look Dean gave him… it would forever be etched in Sam's memory, along with his brother's words. _"You could really do that? You could really kill dad? You really don't care about our family, do you?"_

Sam sometimes wished he didn't. It would have made it all so much easier – getting away, staying away, not having to watch his brother getting hurt over and over again trying to protect him. Sam wasn't so sure he deserved it anymore. All those kids, all those families, their own family… It was all his fault.

* * *

Three more days have passed, and Dean had had enough. He packed their things, loading them onto the car. And then Sam had had another vision. It started to feel like someone or something was trying to keep them there for some reason. And now even Sam was getting apprehensive about it. Dean seemed downright shocked when Sam told him he wanted to go to a bar and get thoroughly drunk. Sam couldn't really blame his brother, though. He couldn't remember the last time he got drunk, but tonight he really needed it. He had to get away for a while, to escape his own mind, the overwhelming guilt. To tell the truth, he had hoped to get Dean drunk too, and that way he might talk. Just maybe. Even if neither of them would remember it in the morning. 

The bar was noisy and busy, but thank goodness, not all that smoke filled. Sam made his way to a small table at the back, Dean following more slowly, taking in every detail of the place. Sam shook his head. His brother, always on guard. But lately, Dean has been on guard from him and dad, too. Sam hated to see Dean withdrawing like that, building up even more walls.

"Okay," Sam said, glancing around, "Where shell we start?" Dean was still looking around, his eyes locking on the pool table.

"There's a pool table." He noted, "I bet I could score us some money to pay for the motel. Could use it, too." He said and started to get up but Sam stopped him. He didn't come here to get drunk on his own, he wanted to spend time with his older brother. He still couldn't believe how much he had learnt about his brother ever since Dean had come to take him from Stanford a year and a half ago. And it was obvious he had barely scratched the surface. Now, as an adult, he had new appreciation of his older brother. Now he saw things differently than he did as a teenager.

"Come on, man, we just got here." Sam said. Dean hesitated for a moment, but then sat back down.

"Okay." He said simply.

"So, where should we start?" Sam asked, and Dean looked questioningly at him. "Well you're the expert. I usually stick with beer." Sam reminded him. A small smile crossed Dean's lips.

"Three beers and you're passed out, little brother." He said. Sam made a face.

"Yeah, well, even if it were true, which it isn't, I want something stronger." He said. Dean stared at him a moment.

"Feeling the urge to bow to the toilet god tonight?" Dean asked, looking intently at Sam.

"Something like that." Sam shrugged. "Come on, what should we start with?"

"What's going on, Sam?" Dean asked, leaning back in his seat and giving Sam a scrutinizing look.

"What? I just want to get drunk. Can't a guy get drunk every now and then?" he asked. Dean kept staring at him.

"Cristo." He said. Sam rolled his eyes, punching Dean in the shoulder.

"Jerk."

"Well, what do you want me to think, Sammy? You never drink!" Dean said quickly, crossing his arms across his chest, and then changing his mind and lowering them to his gut. Sam stared at him for a moment, and then gave a slight nod.

"Yeah, you're right." He said. "I just… For one night, can't we just get totally drunk and pretend there's nothing going on? That we're just a couple of guys with nothing to do but drink?" he asked. Dean kept staring at him for a long moment, and then slipped out of the chair and headed for the bar, only to come back a couple of minutes later balancing a large glass of beer and a couple of whiskey shooters. "Hey, I told you I didn't want beer." Sam said, reaching for the large glass and yelped when Dean slapped his hand.

"I know. The beer's for me. I got you the shooters. My guess is these two will knock you out and then I could go get my money." Sam shook his head, but couldn't help the grin that crept onto his lips. He downed the first shooter, grimacing at the taste and shaking his head. "So, what's going on, Sam?" Dean asked, and Sam noticed he hadn't started his beer yet. Usually half the glass would be empty by the time he got to the table.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, pretending he didn't know. Dean just stared at him. "What?" Sam asked. He wasn't going to make it easy. Dean wasn't the only one who knew how to clam up. Dean let out a little breath, taking the tiniest sip from his beer.

"What's with the drinking all of a sudden?" Dean asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." Sam said, and for a moment he suddenly wasn't sure he really wanted to talk. He downed the second shooter. The taste didn't get any better the second time around. "Why aren't you drinking?" Sam asked all of a sudden, noticing Dean was just sitting there, nestling the still full beer glass and staring at him.

"I'm drinking." Dean said indignantly and took another tiny sip. Sam narrowed his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Sam demanded.

"Well, my little brother started drinking all of a sudden. Kindo' takes time to get used to that, you know? I mean, what's next, you're gonna pick some chick up?" Dean smirked, and Sam tried to read between the lines. He failed, and motioned the bartender for another shot. "Seriously, Sammy, what's with the drinks? Are the nightmares really that bad?" Dean asked.

"What? No." Sam shook his head. "I haven't had a nightmare all week." He said.

"Then what is it?" Dean insisted.

"You tell me, and I'll tell you." Sam said, grinning triumphantly, thinking it was the smartest thing he'd ever said.

"What are you, five?" Dean asked completely inappropriately, in Sam's opinion.

"Oh, come on, Dean. I know you're pushing thirty, grandpa, but there's no reason to act like you're sixty." Sam grinned and started to chuckle. Dean raised a brow.

"You're totally wasted, aren't you?" he asked. Sam snorted and Dean smirked, shaking his head. "You're so easy." He muttered. "Hey Sam?" Sam raised his eyes from the empty glass of the third shooter to look at Dean. "Why are you drinking so much tonight?"

"Because if I drink a lot, you'll get drunk and then you'll tell me what's wrong with you." Sam said, finding no flaw to that logic. Dean sighed, pushing his still full glass of beer aside.

"There's nothing wrong with me Sam." He said.

"Is too!" Sam insisted.

"No, Sam, there isn't." he said just as a waitress came over with the glass of beer Sam ordered. And then he leaned forward. "But, you know, now that we had these drinks, I think there is something wrong with you." He said, appealing to his brother's brilliant drunken logic, looking intently at Sam, who nodded enthusiastically.

"You bet!" he grinned. "See? I knew it! All I needed to do was get you d-drunk!"

"That's it, kiddo, I'm cutting you off." Dean said quickly, taking the glass Sam was holding before Sam had the chance to drop it.

"But I'm not drunk yet! You won't talk if I'm not totally drunk!" Sam insisted.

"You are so going to hate yourself tomorrow." Dean shook his head. "And just so you know, whatever you're gonna do tonight, I'm so taking pictures."

"Why aren't you drinking?" Sam asked, eyeing Dean carefully.

"Sure I am, buddy." Dean said, motioning at the empty glasses on the small table.

"Oh." Sam said, "Good. You drunk yet?"

"I'm gonna get you something to eat." Dean said, and was about to leave when Sam had a sudden moment of clarity and caught his elbow.

"Wait, I drank those, didn't you?" he slurred. "Wait, I meant… you…" he shook his head, "You didn't drink. Why?" he said, deciding small words were the best choice at the moment.

"Sure I did, I'm just not a little girl like you." Dean grinned, but Sam stopped him again.

"You're hiding something." He said seriously.

"Yeah, well, so are you." Dean said. Sam nodded absent mindedly.

"True." He admitted and started to giggle. At that, Dean rolled his eyes and left to get his little brother something to eat.

Sam seemed to find the way the ketchup spilled on his jeans very interesting. Now that Dean had gone off to play some pool, Sam ordered two more drinks and drank them both one after the other, making sure his big brother wasn't watching. This evening was turning to be so much more fun than he thought it would be. There was supposed to be something serious going on tonight, but he couldn't imagine what could be so serious about fries. Especially curly fries. They were just funny.

And then he saw her. She just entered the bar, wearing a red shirt with a matching red skirt, her long dark hair draping her shoulders, and Sam couldn't keep from gawking at her. Definitely his type. And why was it so hot in here all of a sudden? Her eyes looked around the bar and met Sam's. She flashed him a smile and he could tell there was more alcohol in his brain than blood. He grinned back, but she already looked away, going to sit at the bar. Sam thought about going to sit next to her. Unfortunately, his legs thought otherwise, and he nearly crashed to the floor. Someone helped him back to his seat, and a fleeting thought surfaced, telling him that he might need some coffee. Or beer. Yeah, beer sounded better. Sam glanced sideways, making sure Dean wasn't there first. Dean always cramped his style. There was no way a person could be so smug, so cocky, so arrogant, so obnoxious, and still score so many women. Sam had long suspected some sort of deal with the devil and a trading of souls.

This time he managed to actually make it all the way to the bar, sitting next to the dark haired lady in red. He tried to introduced himself, say something extremely fun and brilliant and show her those deadly dimples of his. What he actually said was "Wanna drink some?", and even that was slurred. She laughed and gently declined. No matter. He was drunk. And cute. He could do anything. So he tried to impress her by eating a peanut and nearly choking. Smooth, Sammy, real smooth. Well, at least it got her attention. And another one of those smiles. Man, she sure had a smile on her. And breasts. Definitely breasts. Did he mention she was his type? And wasn't it Dean who told him to pick up a chick? It was an order, wasn't it? So he needed to pick up a chick. And look, there was one right there. What a coincidence. She laughed with him. Or was it at him? Nah, with him. So he'd better start laughing too. The woman shook her head, amused.

"Please tell me you have a ride home." She said. Sam nodded, grinning.

"Nice car, too." He said.

"You're not driving, right?" she arched her brow.

"Why? You wanna watch me?" Sam asked. Oh, he was so smooth. He totally had her now.

"I think you'd better stop drinking now." She laughed.

"I'm not drinking." Sam said, pointing at the absence of glasses before him. "You're pretty." He said. Yep, Dean would be proud.

"You know what, I think I'd better call you a cab. Where d'you live?" she asked, taking out her cell phone. Oh, was that a trick question? Sam frowned, thinking.

"Um... Around?" he tried. She laughed. Mission accomplished. Wait, what was the mission again?

"Are you here with someone?" she tried.

"Well, you're here." Sam smirked. Damned straight, Dean would be so proud. Hell, he should be taking lessons from Sam.

"Right." She laughed, looking at the bartender. "Come on, I'll wait outside with you until that cab shows up." She said, supporting him to his feet and helped him outside.

"Hey, it's cold out here!" Sam noted enthusiastically. It was actually snowing, but if she didn't bring it up, he'll just save it for later. See if he could surprise her. The woman helped him to a nearby car. That was strange. That cab was really fast. And blue. Cabs weren't usually blue were they? "Hey, why didn't you say you have a cab?" Sam asked clumsily as she helped him to the passenger seat and then walked around and sat in the driver's seat, rolling down Sam's window a little bit.

"Just tell me if you feel like throwing up, okay?" she asked as she started the car. "'Cause I'm so not cleaning it up." Sam nodded, grinning, feeling really good with himself. They got to the motel in no time, and the woman stepped out of the car, helping the stumbling Sam out. Sam looked around him.

"Hey, you live here, too? What a coincidence." He stuttered, and nearly fell, chuckling. The woman gripped his arm, steadying him, and helped him to his room.

"You got the keys?" she asked. Sam blinked at her. Why would he have the keys? It was her apartment, wasn't it? Seeing as she wasn't going to get an answer, the woman reached for her purse, taking something out. "Just wait here, would you?" she asked, resting him against the wall. Sam lifted both hands, giving her the thumbs up. It was kindo' funny how everything was swerving around like that. The woman glanced at him, rolling her eyes as Sam studied his thumbs, and quickly picked the lock on the door, pushing Sam inside. "You okay there, Sammy boy?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm better than Sammy boy okay." Sam grinned cheerfully, winking at her.

"Where's the Colt, Sam?" she demanded. Sam shrugged.

"Don't know." He said, "It was supposed to be here. But it's not. Dean lied." He added simply, and nearly missed the bed as he tried to sit on in, slipping down onto the floor.

"You sure? The Colt's not here? I will be so happy if you gave it to me." The woman tried again, searching the room quickly.

"Nope. Not here." Sam said, slumping on the bed. "They don't believe me anymore. Stupid visions don't work, so I don't get the gun. See?" he said and sighed. The bed felt good. The woman looked at him for a long moment, and then took a pen out of her purse. She took Sam's arm and started writing on it, rolling her eyes again as Sam giggled, telling her it tickled.

"This is my number, Sammy. You call me, okay?"

"You bet!" Sam said, giving her another thumbs up. And then he passed out.

TBC

A/A/N: Isn't drunk Sam a much more fun Sam?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Again, thank you all for your kind reviews! All those nice reviews made me write a longer, angstier chapter this time. Hope you enjoy it. Reviews help me deal with a really cranky and hung-over Sam…

Chapter Three

"Here," Dean said, handing Sam a glass of water. Sam groaned, not looking up at Dean. "Come on, you need to drink something." Dean added softly and Sam cringed. _Must his brother always be so freaking loud?_ He took a deep breath, and tried the water. _Oh, good. It stayed down. Wait, no, it didn't!_ Clutching the toilet, Sam retched again, spitting at the taste left in his mouth. God, now he remembered why he never drinks. _And would Dean wipe that smug little grin off his face?_ Sam reached for the towel Dean handed him and groaned again, wiping his mouth. Dean found a small rag and soaked it in cold water, putting it on Sam's forehead. "Serves you right." Dean said, "What the hell were you thinking leaving that place on your own?" he snapped and Sam flinched.

"Man, relax would you? I already feel like crap." He said, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall. His head felt like it was going to explode, then implode, and then go out dancing without the rest of Sam's body attached to it, just for the fun of it. Sam was really getting tired of headaches.

"Relax? Sammy..." Dean shook his head, licking his lips. "Whatever. You totally deserve to feel the way you do." Sam gave him an irritated glare. _Was a little sympathy too much to ask for?_

"Jerk." Sam muttered, closing his eyes again.

"Seriously, Sam, I nearly had a heart attack when I got back to the table and you were gone!" Dean said, glaring at him. "You have any idea how worried I got?" Dean went on. _Oh, great. The guilt card. Like Sam really needed more of that_. "You ever even think of disappearing like that again, Sam, I swear, I'll post stupid pictures of you all over the internet, with a special eddition sent especially to your Stanford buddies!" Dean threatened, and Sam groaned. _What's the point of that threat? It's not like Dean knew his college friends. Or even had stupid pictures of him. Did he?_ "How'd you even get in here? I had the keys!" Sam winced.

"Shhh! Dean! Quiet, would you?" he snapped, wincing. "You want to yell at me, fine. Wait until after the hangover passes."

"What's the fun in that?" Dean smirked. Sam glowered at him, seriously pondering the joys of being an only child.

"Jerk." Sam muttered again.

"Maybe, but a jerk who has aspirin." Dean smirked again. Sam groaned, reaching his hand out for the painkillers. "Uh uh, say it." Dean said, holding the pills farther from his brother. Sam grunted, glaring ferociously at him.

"Gimme!" he said, making an attempt to grab the precious painkillers, but then frowned, turning greener, and rested his head back against the wall, taking a deep breath and trying to settle his stomach.

"Say it, Sammy." Dean smirked.

"Gimme now?" Sam tried. Dean crossed his hands over his chest, only to quickly drop them again. The sudden gesture didn't escape Sam. It wasn't the first time his brother avoided any contact with his chest. But he would have to worry about it some other time. When there wasn't an entire marching band banging around in his head.

"Uh uh," Dean repeated, "Say it Sam." Sam groaned, taking a deep, exhausted breath.

"Dean Winchester is God's gift to women-kind. Now give me the damn pills, dumbass!" he growled, reaching his hands for the pills again. Dean grinned, handing him the painkillers.

"Damn straight." He said, and then frowned, "Hey, Sam, what's that?" Dean asked, noticing the writing on Sam's arm.

"What's what?" Sam grunted. Dean motioned at Sam's arm.

"That." He said. Sam tried to focus his eyes, studying the fading numbers on his arm.

"Looks like a phone number." He said. That wasn't fair, it was Dean who was supposed to get drunk last night. Sam knew his brother could hold his liquor, but still, Dean didn't even seem nauseated. There was just no justice in the world.

"Really? A phone number?" Dean asked, slipping down next to Sam, punching him on the shoulder. "That's my boy!" he smirked.

"Ow! Dean, shut up!" Sam snapped, punching Dean right back. That was a mistake, his stomach announced, and made sure he regretted it.

* * *

"So, you gonna call that number?" Dean asked once Sam finally got out of the bathroom. 

"No." Sam said simply, slumping on his bed.

"Why not?" Dean asked.

"Because. I don't even know whose number it is." Sam said dryly. The last thing he remembered from the previous night was Dean getting him the food, and then ordering a couple more shooters once Dean was off to hustle pool. Sam shook his head. It wasn't like him to be stupid. He blamed it on the damn visions. And on Dean. Just because.

"You dog!" Sam groaned as the mattress shifted under his brother's added weight, he could practically see that grin even though his eyes were closed. "There was more than one? Seriously, Sammy, I really didn't think you had it in you!" Dean cried.

"Oh, shut up." Sam muttered and covered his head with the pillow.

* * *

Sam gave a tiny sigh of relief when the motel door opened and his brother walked in. He was startled for a moment when he woke up to find an empty room, but then noticed the car was gone. It was something his brother started doing after he was released from the hospital – taking off, driving aimlessly for a while, unwinding. Sam had learnt to accept it, even if he still didn't like it. He had spent the last hour and a half trying to think of a way to get Dean to talk to him. He found it, or at least hoped he did. Being patient didn't work, neither did being direct or getting his brother drunk. The only other thing Sam could think of was to annoy the crap out of Dean. There was the risk of finding out more than he really wanted to, but at this point, Sam would take it. 

"Had a nice ride?" Sam asked as Dean took his jacket off, tossing it unceremoniously on his bed.

"I hate this car!" Dean grunted, slumping down on the bed himself.

"You're spending an awful lot of time in it for someone who claims to hate it." Sam noted, and Dean glowered at him, but said nothing, staring at the ceiling.

"How's the hangover?" Dean asked just as Sam was about to speak.

"Fine. Better." Sam said. "Took any good pictures?" he asked. That brought a smile to Dean's lips. "You didn't!" Sam breathed, jumping to his feet. Dean's grin widened, but he didn't say anything. Sam was about to punch the truth out of him when he remembered he actually had to keep cool to annoy Dean into talking. At the moment, though, the only thing that came to mind were stabs about the car, and even Sam knew that it was way too low. "Heard anything from dad?" Sam asked instead. Dean shrugged.

"He left a message." He said. Sam raised a brow.

"Saying what?" he asked.

"He got there too late." Dean said matter-of-factly. Sam sat down heavily, the guilt creeping back and making his body heavy. They sat there in silence for a while until Dean rolled over to his side, looking at Sam.

"It wasn't your fault, Sam." He said simply. Sam nodded lightly, the words rolling over him. He didn't, couldn't, believe that. Dean sighed, sitting up. "Sam," he said, pausing long enough for Sam to look up at him. "It wasn't your fault."

"I could have killed it…" Sam muttered and then caught himself and cursed under his breath. Dean stared at him for a long moment, and then gave a slight nod.

"Yeah, you could have." He agreed, and Sam looked up at him, shocked. "But you didn't. What's done's done. Time to move on." Dean said firmly, though he didn't look at Sam, laying back on his back instead. Sam stared at him for a long moment, shocked. "I'm hungry. Let to grab something to eat." Dean said eventually, getting up and grabbing his coat. Still stunned, Sam followed more slowly.

He looked questioningly at Dean as he pulled over by the same bar they were in the previous night. "What?" Dean asked, "They have awesome hot wings." He shrugged, and Sam raised a brow. "And besides, maybe you'll get lucky again and find the woman that left you her number." He said as they got out of the car. _That's more like it_, Sam thought, giving his brother a dirty look. Dean stopped suddenly. "It was a woman, right?" he asked, and then smirked. Sam punched him as hard as he could.

"Jerk." He muttered, following Dean more slowly, annoyed at his brother's mocking laughter. Oh, wait, wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? _Damn him_!

Sam had to admit, the food at this place, which, during the day doubled as a small restaurant, was pretty good. And the hot wings were really good. Sam watched his brother. When there were other people around, especially of the female kind, Dean was his old self. Maybe Sam was just imagining thing. And then his eyes landed on the coke nestled in his brother's hand. It wasn't a beer. No, there was definitely something there, and Sam couldn't hold on any longer.

"So, Dean," he started, and his brother turned back to him after winking at the waitress and sending her off giddily to the kitchen. _Definitely some sort of under the table deal with the devil – Dean wouldn't hunt it for a couple of years, and in return, every woman will find herself unable to resist him_… Sam thought. "How did you do last night?" Dean cocked his head to the side.

"Not too bad." He said, his eyes following another waitress. "Almost two hundred bucks." He said, "Didn't even have to hustle. They just sucked." He added. "Maybe we should come back here again tonight, get some gas money." He suggested.

"Or just hang out." Sam offered. At that, Dean's easy-going appearance seemed to disappear. He stiffened.

"I thought we were here for a job, Sam." He said coolly, "We ever going to get around to that?" he demanded. For a moment, Sam was lost for words. He shook his head.

"We are here for a job…" he stuttered, "Just need to figure out what it is exactly."

"We haven't exactly been doing that, have we?" Dean said, and Sam couldn't ignore the underlying accusation.

"You're right." He said, "Maybe we should get you some beer and get a paper, start looking." Sam said, trying his best not to appear like he was studying Dean for a reaction, even though he was. Dean frowned.

"What is it with you and getting me drunk, little brother?" Dean snapped, "'Cause I don't swing that way." He said, getting up, "And even if I did, you're not my type." He added, reaching for his wallet and putting a twenty on the table before he walked away. Sam added a tip and hurried after his brother.

"Dean, wait," he cried after his brother. Dean slowed down, but neither stopped nor turned around to face his brother.

"Sam, I'm sick and tired of all this shit," Dean said, unlocking the car and looking at Sam, opening the driver's side door. "Either we have a job here, or we don't." he said simply, locking Sam's eyes with a stern gaze. "And if we don't, then we don't need to be here." He added, and then got in the car. Sam gave a slight nod. He was officially irritated. No, make that pissed off. Yanking the passenger's side door open a little harder than necessary, he got inside, clenching his jaw. He didn't close the door. Instead, he reached over, snatching the keys from the ignition. _Then_ he slammed the door shut. "What the hell?" Dean snapped.

"Shut up!" Sam snapped back. Dean made a face, cocking a brow.

"Excuse me?"

"Look, you may not think these visions mean anything. Fine! Don't! But I do!" Sam said heatedly, and went on just as Dean was about to speak. "There's a reason I see these things, Dean! I don't know why, but _I_ see them! Me! _I_ know what will happen if we're not there to help them, _me_, not you! I'm the one responsible!" Sam cried. Dean seemed a little taken aback. He said nothing a long moment, and then sighed.

"Whatever, man." He said eventually, and then looked intently at Sam. "But no more messing around. We came here to work!" Dean added seriously. Sam glared at him. What the hell, he was on a roll.

"And another thing," Sam went on, his voice a little harsher than he intended it to be, "What is it with you?" he demanded. Dean frowned.

"What is it with me?" he repeated.

"Yes!" Sam yelled, noting Dean shrank back a little, "There's something wrong with you, there's something different," he held his hand up to stop Dean from talking, "and don't give me that bullshit about you being okay! You're not okay!" Sam yelled. "Tell me what's going on!" he demanded.

"What are you talking about? Nothing's going on!" Dean snapped back.

"You're not drinking! I've been watching you for a while, Dean, you're not drinking anymore!" Sam accused. Dean seemed actually surprised for a moment, and then his mask was back in place. He frowned.

"You know, little brother, you're really starting to freak me out." He said flatly. Sam glared at him, setting his jaw. "What the hell do you care if I drink or not?" Dean demanded a moment later, and Sam thought he heard a slightly accusing underlying tone.

"Because you're different! Because there's something wrong, and you're too big of an ass to tell me what it is!" Sam insisted.

"I'm different?" Dean smirked, "Wow, coming from you, Sammy, I'm not sure that means a lot. If anyone here's different…" but Sam was done. He was done listening to excuses and diversions and lies. He wanted the truth, and he was going to get it. Now.

"Why aren't you drinking?" he demanded again. Dean narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw. For a slight second, Sam could read a myriad of emotions in his brother's face, and that truly surprised him. There was shame, guilt, anger, irritation, maybe even fear - and a few other things Sam didn't have the time to register before his brother exploded.

"Because I can't, Sam! Happy?" Dean demanded angrily. Sam blinked, shocked and a little startled. He frowned.

"Why not?" he asked. Dean rolled his eyes, his entire body language making it perfectly clear he didn't want to talk about it.

"Oh, jeez, Sam…"

"What? What is it!" Sam wasn't about to let it go. Not now. He knew for certain that if he let it go now, he'll never again have the chance to get to the bottom of this thing.

"Drop it, will you?" but it wasn't a question. It was an order. And one Sam wasn't willing to follow.

"No!" Sam insisted. Dean let out an exasperated grunt and pushed the car door open, getting out of the car. Sam followed him, not giving his brother the chance to cover up whatever it was he was trying to cover up. "No, Dean I won't let it go!" Sam repeated, circling the car and coming to stand by his brother. "Would you?" Sam demanded, looking Dean in the eye. Dean returned the look with a cool gaze, saying nothing but speaking volumes. His eyes clearly said _back off!_ But Sam wouldn't. "Look, I know there's something wrong, Dean. What do you mean you can't drink?" Sam demanded, getting in Dean's face and preventing him from stalking away. Dean tried to sidestep him a couple of times, but Sam wouldn't let him. He was beginning to think Dean would actually shove him or punch him, but instead Dean just let out an irritated cry.

"Because pills and booze don't mix!" he cried exasperatedly. "Happy?" he demanded. Sam blinked, shocked. He really didn't think it was anything remotely like this.

"Pills? W-what pills?" Sam asked in a hoarse voice, his mouth suddenly dry. Dean clenched and unclenched his fists, his jaw set, not answering, not even looking at his younger brother. "Dean, what pills?" Sam demanded. In another attempt to get away, Dean got back in the car, and cursed loudly when he remembered Sam still had the keys. Sam crouched down next to him. "Are you still on painkillers?" Sam demanded, the thought was making his head spin. Dean still didn't answer, and Sam took that as a yes. "Jeez, Dean, it's been almost six months!" he exclaimed. Dean looked coolly at him. "Dean!"

"What!" Dean snapped angrily, and Sam felt the blood rushing to his face. How could he not have noticed this? How could he not have known?

"Do you have a… problem?" Sam asked in a small voice, forcing the words out. Dean rolled his eyes angrily.

"Yes! I have an annoying little brother that won't get off my back." He snapped, "What do you think I should do about it?" he added, glaring at Sam. Sam gave him a long look and then straightened and got back in the car. They both stared at nothing for a long moment before Sam said,

"I'm serious here!"

"So am I!" Dean snapped. Sam gave the older hunter another long look as Dean reached out his hand, expecting the keys back. Reluctantly, Sam gave him the keys, crossing his hands across his chest. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

* * *

Sam jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped, practically leaping towards their motel room before Dean had had the chance to protest or to stop him. He had locked his brother out of the room. Dean might be pissed, but Sam had work to do, and he wasn't going to let Dean get in the way. Taking his brother's duffle, Sam turned it over, pouring its contents on Dean's bed. He spent the next couple of hours meticulously going through Dean's things. He even went through his own things, just to make sure his brother wasn't trying to hide things in clear view. 

Sam sat on the floor, looking at his 'loot'. Three bottles. That's what his brother had been hiding. And too of those were Tylenol. The third, however, wasn't. It was much, much stronger. It also had Dean's name on it, in tiny print, along with the instructions. Five times a day for the first couple of weeks, and then when needed. The prescription had been refilled a couple of months ago. There was still a handful of pills left. And Sam relaxed a little. It didn't look like his brother was addicted to pain killers. That was a lot of weight lifting off his shoulders. But then, what was his brother hiding? And why was the prescription refilled? Sam sighed, looking at the mess around him. Dean was still hiding something. Something bigger. And he had lost his chance to find out what it was.

* * *

Dean stood by the car, leaning against it, a water bottle in his hand as he watched his brother go through his things back in their motel room. Dean had no doubt Sam would find the pain medication sooner or later. He had hidden it, but it was still in reach. He couldn't afford for it not to be. Dean sighed, getting in the car and resting his head against the headrest. Sam would probably be surprised at how potent it was, Dean thought, closing his eyes. He had filled the prescription a couple of months ago. The bottle was more than half full. Dean didn't have a problem. Well, not that kind of problem, anyway. 

He was actually glad Sam thought he had a problem with painkillers. It was a good thing that he had found those pills. That way, he'll find the bottle and see that it wasn't really a problem, and he'll back off. Eventually. What he won't do, is look for something else. Dean would make sure of that. The pain medication was the lesser of two evils, and Dean now had the ammunition - the false accusation - to make sure Sam kept off his back.

Dean let out a sigh and looked through the motel room window. Sam was ransacking his things, looking for more pills. _Won't get him far_, Dean thought, the most he'll find is aspirin and Tylenol. Dean was smarter than that. Smarter, and experienced. With another glance at the motel room to make sure Sam was still busy, _he'd better put my things back in place before I get back there_, he popped the trunk and made his way to the back of the car. Another glance, and a good look around, and Dean moved some of their stuff around, exposing the bottom and the emergency tool kit. He got it out, and reached his hand in the space it left. Poking around for a couple of seconds, Dean found what he was looking for. A small zip-lock plastic bag containing two little plastic bottles. Dean closed his eyes for another second, and took a deep breath. Sam will never know about _these_ pills. _No one will_, Dean thought as he opened one of the bottles and carefully took out one pill. They cost a bundle, he wasn't going to let any pill drop. He quickly swallowed the pill, taking a sip of water and wiping his mouth. One down, one more to go. He took another pill from the second bottle. Those were running low. He has to refill the prescription soon. Taking another sip of water, Dean put the pills away and returned everything in the trunk carefully back to where it was, returning to the driver's seat. He sat there a moment, closing his eyes and waiting for the medication to take affect.

The heart medication gave him heartburn, but it did help – or so his cardiologist claimed. He was showing improvement. In a few months, maybe he could finally be rid of those pills. The blood pressure pills, well those he was probably stuck with for the rest of his life.

The Demon cut him deep, very close to the heart, nearly carving it out. It didn't hurt it, not directly, but with the excess strain, the blood loss and the time it took to get Dean to surgery, a small artery somehow ruptured. He was basically dead when he got to the hospital and was rushed into surgery. The surgeon told him his heart gave out three times on the operating table. Shesaid they had nearly lost hope for him, but that he never stopped fighting. Well, of course not. What else was he good for?

Dean turned the radio on, and closed his eyes again once he found a station he didn't dislike. Those pills made him so tired…

Dean tried to fight the fatigue. His doctor kept telling him not to, that his body desperately needed rest and better care. But what did _he_ know, right? The damn doctor kept telling him to get re-admitted to a hospital, or at least take a long vacation with plenty of bed rest. Well, that's kind of what he's been doing. This gig was nothing but a waste of time. Fighting to keep his eyes open, Dean's hand found the paper and he forced himself to read it. The words kept mingling together as his eyes refused to stay open, but Dean insisted. He was a Winchester after all. Stubbornness was in his genes.

"Hmm…" he said out loud, focusing his eyes and reading the article again. "Now that's interesting…"

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Sam unlocked the door, looking guiltily at his brother. Dean spared him a quick glance and then walked in the motel room, looking at the mess all around.

"Jeez, Sam, what the hell's the matter with you?" Dean demanded as he leaned down and started picking up his things. Sam hurried over to help him. "Was it good for you?" Dean asked sarcastically, tossing his clothes back in his duffle without bothering to fold them properly.

"Dean, I'm sorry. Look, I just wanted…" Sam started, but Dean held up his hand, stopping him.

"Whatever, man. Are we done here?" he asked. _Not quite_, Sam thought. He still needed answers, but he knew this wasn't the time.

"Look, just leave it," Sam said, "I'll clean up."

"You bet you will." Dean said, "After." He added, and Sam looked quizzically at him. Dean took the paper out of his back pocket, hitting Sam in the gut with it to make a point. "We've got a job to do."

* * *

"Hey, you coming or what?" Sam jumped, startled, and then gave a slight nod, smiling at the landlord who was showing them the apartment. Flashes from his latest vision kept popping into his mind. This was the place, the apartment, only, it was all wrong. The furniture was different, the pictures on the mantle were different, and the blood splutters on the carpet and wall, well, that was different alright. The apartment was either cursed or haunted, or so his brother claimed. Eighteen deaths in the past twenty years – that's what they have come up with in their research – the last one taking place three days earlier. 

"So, what can you tell us about the place?" Sam asked, making a face when he noticed he stepped in a splotch of dry blood. They pretended to be reporters and practically had the landlord eating from the palm of their hand when Dean happened to mention the rent was rather cheap and that they were looking for a place.

As they expected, the landlord mostly repeated what they already knew, and added what they already suspected. There was some electric problem with the lights, but a technician was working to fix it, probably some rats, but they were planning to get an exterminator as soon as the police was finished with the place, and the painter was due the following week. Dean kept the conversation going while Sam looked around. He didn't like being in this place. It felt like he was being watched, and it made the fine hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He looked questioningly at Dean, who nodded. There were definite cold spots around. There was something here, no question about it. They'll take care of it later, after the landlord leaves. They were thanking him, getting ready to leave and planning to return later that night but Sam just couldn't shake the feeling someone was watching, that something was off… He had seen this place in his vision, that had to mean something.

"Hey, so just one last question," he said, turning back as they were already at the stairs. Dean looked questioningly at him. Sam cocked his head to the side, licking his lips. "There wouldn't happen to have been a fire here, would it? I mean, all the stories…" he tried to smile "Just trying to think of a catchy title for the story…" he apologized at the look the landlord gave him.

"Well, now that you mentioned it," Sam's heart hammered, "there was a fire in the building. Almost thirty years ago. About a dozen died. Burned up half this side of the building." The landlord said, and than laughed, "But don't worry, the ghosts come with no extra charge." He winked. Sam smiled back and hurried after his older brother on their way back to the car.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?" Dean asked once they were on their own again. Sam took a deep breath before answering.

"This is the place." He said. Dean looked questioningly at him.

"What place?" he asked, getting in the car and Sam followed him.

"From my vision. This is it, this is the place." Sam explained. Dean gave him a funny look.

"What, the Demon? No way, man. The guy that lived here didn't even have a family." Dean said and Sam gave him a meaningful look. "What?"

"Come on, Dean. There was a fire here thirty years ago. That's it. That's the Demon. It was here."

"What? Thirty years ago?" Dean shrugged, "You're having visions about something that happened thirty years ago now?" Dean looked intently at Sam, who pursed his lips uncomfortably, shaking his head.

"I don't know." Sam said, "All I know is I've seen this place in my vision." They sat there silently for a moment, and then Dean started the car, driving back to the motel, each hunter deep in his own thoughts.

"Could be like our house." Dean suggested after a long moment of silence. Sam glanced at him.

"You think it attracted a poltergeist?" he asked. Dean half-shrugged.

"I guess we're gonna find out soon enough."

* * *

The brothers returned to the apartment much later that night. Picking the lock, Dean was the first to go in, pulling the EMF meter out of his jacket pocket. Sam followed, the camera – set to night vision – in his hand. Sam adjusted the heavy backpack he was carrying so it wouldn't keep falling off his shoulder. He couldn't shake the feeling someone, or something, was there, watching them. Watching him. It unnerved him and he kept glancing at the shotgun in his brother's hand, making sure to keep close. Yeah, okay, he was a little nervous. Didn't mean he was going to admit it or anything. Besides, this place just gave him the creeps. 

"Anything?" Sam asked, frowning. He could smell traces of Ozone. There was definitely something there, and Dean confirmed it by showing him the EMF meter. Sam swallowed, turning the camera off and crouching, shrugging his backpack off and opening it. He had called Missouri earlier, asking her what she had used the last time when they tried to vanquish the poltergeist from their old house. He'd been working on it for a couple of hours until Dean reminded him it didn't work back then. Still, it was better than nothing. First thing's first, though. Sam took a large container of salt out of his backpack and started working.

Sam heard something smash against a wall, and then heard Dean curse. He called out for the older hunter, rushing over to Dean, only to be thrown against the bookcase and fall to the floor. He grimaced in pain, thanking his luck that for once, the entire bookcase didn't fall on top of him. His back creaked and moaned as Sam pushed himself back to his feet. _Well, at least_ _this time he wasn't strangled_, he thought to himself as he rushed over to help Dean. He could hear the gunshot before he got there, and had to duck quickly, covering his head, when he saw something hurtled his way – only to find out it was a pillow. _Great, Dean will never let me live this down_…

"The hell are you waiting for? Get dad's book!" Dean yelled at him, and fired again. Dad's journal was in his backpack, by the entrance door, and Sam quickly rushed over to get it, only to have the door to the room slammed in his face, literally, before he had the chance to use it. Sam staggered for a moment, stars bursting in front of his eyes and his eyes watered at the pain in his probably broken nose. He blinked the tears away, shaking his head to make the bursting stars go away, or so he hoped, and tried opening the door. Didn't work. _Damn_. But Dean had learned his lesson the last time, there was an axe in Sam's backpack, and Sam quickly rushed over to retrieve it. Dean yelled out his name, in the sort of way that made his stomach lurch, and he started working on the door when he heard the muffled sound of something heavy being tossed against something not so heavy, or as he suspected, his brother. Sam listened for a couple of seconds and didn't like the sudden silence. He called out to Dean, and _really_ didn't like the silence that answered him. And then the lights flickered and he suddenly felt really cold. And unable to breathe. _Damn it, what was there with those things and his esophagus_? Sam tried fighting it, but there was nothing to fight. _Nothing_ was strangling him to death. _Oh, come on, give the guy a break here, would you?_ he thought as he struggled to breathe. He was dimly aware of the fact that the door had finally opened and that Dean stumbled out of the bedroom, but the lack of oxygen was beginning to take its toll. He could hear, though not quite register, Dean shouting, and from the sudden rush of air into his starved lunged, Sam supposed Dean started reading the exorcism. He gasped a few times, taking big gulps of air, and tried to remember how he got to his hands and knees when he heard something shutter and all the windows burst inside the apartment, showering them with shards of glass. That hurt, actually. Sam stumbled to his feet, going over to help Dean, when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. His brother didn't see it, and Sam's warning came a second too late as a heavy looking lamp was thrown forcefully at Dean, hitting him squarely in the chest, the force of the impact throwing him back a good six feet before he crumpled to the floor in a heap. The lights flickered again, and Sam could feel a presence there, and knew that it wasn't just the poltergeist. There was something else there, watching him. The fact that Dean stayed on the floor and didn't even attempt to get up propelled Sam into action as he quickly rushed to his brother's side. But there was no time to check on Dean. Things were hurtled their way, cutlery included, and Sam, for one, didn't want to know what dinner felt like before it was eaten. He grabbed the small coffee table (with two legs broken after being tossed their way) and used it as a makeshift shield as he started to read the incantation all over again, keeping his voice steady. He did his best to forget the noise and tumult all around and just keep reading until he was finished and the poltergeist repelled.

Sam looked around cautiously, making sure it was really over and that no one was going to toss him around the room or strangle him again. Satisfied that it was over (though he had planned to give the apartment another once-over with the EMF), Sam turned his attention back to his still unconscious brother. The thought occurred to him that, yes, Dean had been hit pretty badly, but he should have been up by now, if not much sooner. He patted Dean's leg.

"Hey, sleeping beauty, time to wake up now." Sam said, tossing what was left of the coffee table aside, painfully aware that one of the knives lodged in it was dangerously close to splitting the thing in two. "Dean, come on man, no sleeping on the job." Sam tried again when Dean showed no sign of movement. There was still no response and Sam's heart started racing. "Come on, Dean, get up!" he said, giving his older brother a shake. Still no response. "Dean! Come on, man, you're scaring me here!" Sam cried, giving Dean a sturdier shake. Still no response. Sam rushed over to get a flashlight, the light bulbs having exploded in one of the poltergeist tantrums, and quickly returned to his brother. He swallowed hard, hoping it was just the flashlight that made his brother look so pale. "Dean, wake up! Now! It's an order!" Sam tried to no avail. Dean didn't wake up. "Getting soft there in your old age?" Sam tried, maybe a shot to his brother's enormous ego would do the trick, "There was a time you could have taken that hit and still kill the damn thing, you're losing your touch, man." He tried, but if Dean had heard him, he made no sign of it. Heart pounding, Sam quickly scrambled to his feet, shoving their things back in his backpack and hoping the camera didn't break. His eyes went from the shotgun to his brother. He couldn't carry them both. They were on the sixth floor with no elevator for crying out loud, getting Dean up here in the first place wasn't the nicest thing. Sam gave it another shot, trying to arouse the older hunter and feeling the beginning of panic wash over him. He cursed and put his hand under Dean's arm, pulling him up a little. Dean's skin felt cold and clammy, his head tilted back. Okay, more than just a little panic. _Get it together Sam, you've been through worse. This was just a damn poltergeist_… he muttered to himself. He relaxed a little when he touched his fingers to the side of his brother's throat and found a steady pulse. Sam hoisted his brother over his shoulder and swayed a minute, trying to find his balance. Six flights of stairs with the unconscious Dean on his shoulders. Not a nice thought. Sam noticed suddenly that his brother seemed… lighter than usual. He had lost weight. _Still, too damn heavy_. How Sam had gotten him all the way to the car without them both falling down the stairs, he will never know. He eased Dean into the passenger seat and cursed, out of breath, at the thought of having to climb all the way back up and retrieve the shotgun and the backpack he dropped when he realized there was no way he could carry both the bag and his brother. Sam's legs were shaking the second time he got to the car, threatening to buckle from under him. Breathing hard, Sam stumbled into the driver's seat, looking frantically for the bottle of water Dean kept under the seat. His throat was beyond dry. He finished half the bottle in a couple of gulps and sighed, feeling a little bit better. That is, until he noticed Dean was still in the exact same position Sam had left him, tilting a little towards the door, his head resting against the window.

"Seriously, Dean, if you don't get up in the next five seconds, I'm driving!" Sam warned his bother, Dean having warned him after the accident that he's never again letting the younger brother drive with him still in the car. The threat, however, went unnoticed. "I mean it man, I'm driving. And I'm taking you to a hospital." Sam tried again, "With absolutely no cute nurses. And I'm leaving orders that only the male nurses are allowed to give you a sponge bath! You hear me?" Sam cried, and then cursed and put the keys in the ignition, driving as fast as he could.

* * *

The doctors asked him how long his brother had been out and Sam was horrified to realize it had been more than half an hour. That just wasn't right. And neither was finding out that Dean's pallor wasn't the result of the flashlight or the street lamps. He really was that pale, and to Sam's horror, Dean's lips were actually blue, as was the skin under his fingernails. Dean was rushed away into the emergency room and Sam was left with all the questions, more than a few of them his own. He had no idea what to tell the doctors about what had caused his brother to pass out, and so he didn't. He wasn't sure of it himself. There's no way a lamp, no matter how heavy or how hard it had been thrown, would do that much damage to his brother. Something just didn't add up. 

Sam paced back and forth in the waiting room, biting his nails. They cleaned up the cuts on his face and hands caused by the shards of glass, and Sam cursed at the myriad of questions he had no idea how to answer. A nurse came by about fifteen minutes later to tell him that Dean was awake. Oh, he was awake alright. And royally pissed to find himself in a hospital. He was more than a little annoyed by the fact they cut his shirt, too. Sam could hear his gruff voice and curses even before walking in the room. A doctor was arguing with Dean, who was sitting up in the bed, pulling the IV from his arm. Dean demanded to be released. The doctor tried to explain that they needed to run tests, trying futilely to insert the IV back, but his stubborn brother just shook his head and said there would be no tests. The doctor tried appealing to his common sense and self-preservation instinct, _a bad choice_, Sam thought to himself as his brother just rolled his eyes and demanded the AMA papers. Sam gave the doctor a weak smile, and the doctor came over.

"You might want to get some sense into your brother." He said, "We really should run some more tests. Your brother has been unconscious for a very long time, and his blood pressure is too low. We have to make sure…"

"I'm fine!" Dean cut him off, stepping off the bed and walking unsteadily towards them. "Now, you could get me those damn papers or I'm just leaving here without…" and then he passed out.

* * *

"Dean…" 

"I'm fine, Sam!" Dean snapped, undoing his seat belt, and stepping out of the car angrily. It might have had a better affect if he didn't sway so much on his feet. Sam let out a heavy sigh and got out of the car himself. He tried to support Dean back to their motel room, only to be shrugged off.

"I really think you should have stayed the day at the hospital, Dean." Sam said as he fumbled for the room keys.

"Yeah, I bet you would." Dean muttered, and Sam frowned. _What was that supposed to mean_?

"I mean it, Dean, you should have let them take those tests." Sam said as he opened the door, "I really don't get why you wouldn't just…"

"I told you, I'm fine!" Dean snapped angrily, pushing against Sam's shoulder as he stumbled into the room and over to his bed, slumping down on it like a ton of bricks.

"Right…" Sam said, rolling his eyes. "And I'm shorter than you."

"Keep that attitude and you will be, little brother." Dean snapped warningly. Sam sighed again.

"I just don't understand…"

"Look, I'm tired, okay?" Dean propped himself up on his elbows so he could look at Sam better. "Can we do this in the morning?" Sam pursed his lips. It _was_ morning. But Dean had a point. He was exhausted, too.

"Fine." He spat eventually. "But I'm not letting this go, Dean."

"Of course not." Dean muttered, "Women just _have_ to talk about _everything_…"

* * *

Sam hadn't slept. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to his brother's soft breaths. Dean had been out like a light the moment his head touched the pillow, and Sam berated himself for not forcing his brother to stay at the hospital for further testing. 

With the poltergeist taken care of, and seeing as how it had been the same place as in Sam's vision, Dean thought it time to leave. Sam agreed. They have stayed here long enough. And besides, even though things weren't exactly right between him and his dad, Sam figured two against one was better odds in trying to get whatever secret Dean was withholding out. Sam guessed it was something about his health. There was evidence enough to support it, but it wouldn't explain the change in Dean. He fervently refused to talk about anything that had happened at the cabin or after, when their dad had left them again, and Sam was really starting to feel at a loss.

And there was something else he was feeling. Hungry. Sam sighed, looking at the time. It was nearly noon, and Dean was showing no sign of waking up. Sam pushed his covers away, struggling out of bed, and just sat there for a while, watching his older brother sleep. It was a real deep sleep. Sam frowned. The older hunter didn't use to sleep so deeply before, but come to think of it, he has been sleeping that way ever since… Sam sighed again, pushing himself off the bed. _Time for backup_, he thought, _and lunch_, he added when his stomach protested. Well, he could get them both at the same time. Getting dressed and pocketing the car keys, Sam gave his brother another quick glance before leaving the room and heading for a little restaurant he had discovered the other day. He ordered their food to go, and used the time he had to wait to call his father. There was no answer. Sam snorted. What else had he been expecting?

A woman passed by him, brushing against his shoulder as she walked out the diner, and Sam had a sudden feeling of déjà vu. He turned to look at her, a small smile spreading on his lips. She was cute. Definitely his type. Maybe he should go talk to her or something. He was just about to when the waitress told him that his food was ready. Sam thanked her, and by the time he had paid and got out the restaurant, the woman was gone. Feeling a little disappointed, and very hungry, Sam got back in the car and drove back to the motel. A sudden chill ran down his spine. Someone was watching him. He tensed, looking in the rear view mirror, but there was no one there. He maneuvered the car, trying to see if he was being tailed, but he wasn't. Still, the feeling didn't go away. They should definitely leave this place as soon as Dean was feeling better. And then he cursed, pulling on the breaks, remotely aware that someone had rear-ended him. He hissed at the pain in his head and cursed as the sights began to play in his mind. This was getting ridiculous.

* * *

Sam winced his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the pain in his head. There was nothing he could do but try to keep breathing. He cursed, crying out, and gasped at the pain, pressing the heels of his hands to his temples. He couldn't even open his eyes, and the constant honking from the cars behind him didn't help. People were gathering around, curiously looking to see what was holding up traffic, but Sam was oblivious to them. His entire world consisted of the pain cutting through his skull. 

"Hey, buddy, move it, would ya?" someone shouted, but Sam didn't even hear him. Someone came over to the side of the car, someone was talking to him, but the words didn't register. Sam couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman, the fact that he could tell _someone_ was there was surprising enough. The door was pulled open from the outside, and Sam prayed it would be Dean. He knew it couldn't be, his brother was asleep in the motel, and even if he weren't, the older hunter had no idea where Sam had went. It didn't change the fact Sam wanted his older brother at the moment. If anyone could make him feel better, it was Dean. It had always been Dean. He should tell his brother that more often.

Agonizingly slow, the pain began to subside, and Sam could tell it was a woman standing by his side, though he couldn't take a good look at her, not risking opening his eyes more than a slit. The woman handed him a bottle of water, and Sam thanked her. He gulped the cool drink down, finishing the entire bottle and wishing it had come with a nice bottle of painkillers. The woman put her hand on his shoulder.

"You okay there?" she asked, "I already called the ambulance, they should be getting here any minute now." She told him, trying to reassure him, but doing the opposite.

"No," he breathed, "no ambulance, I'm fine." He lied. The woman seemed a little confused, and Sam realized it was the same woman from the restaurant. He cursed inwardly. _Great first impression, Sam_. "Look, I'm better now. I just have these migraines, they come out of nowhere, you know?" he smiled apologetically. She smiled back at him, and had he not been in dire pain, his heart would probably start racing.

"Are you sure?" she asked, serious once more, "Maybe you should let someone take a look…"

"No! No, I'm fine, really…" Sam said quickly, feeling his throat tighten and bile rising. God, he just wanted to throw up and then crawl into bed with a couple dozen painkillers and sleep this monster headache away. The woman stared at him for a moment, hesitating, and Sam gave her his best smile, or at least he hoped he did. He wasn't so sure.

"Well, I can't let you drive." She said assertively.

"Look, I'm fine really. All better now." Sam assured her, which probably would have gone off a lot better if he hadn't winced in pain.

"That's it. Move it. I'll drive." She said, pulling him out of the car.

"No, really, you don't have to. I'm sure you have better things…"

"I insist. You're not driving like that, so either I drive or we wait for the paramedics to say that you're okay to drive yourself home. What do you say?" she asked. Sam stared at her for a moment. Definitely his type. He sighed, getting out of the driver's seat and into the passenger's. "Good." She smiled at him again and Sam sighed again, closing his eyes and resting his head against the headrest.

"Thanks." He said as she started the car, frowning at the honking still going on in the background.

"Not a problem." She smiled at him as she started the car. "I'm Lynn by the way."

"Sam." He introduced himself. _Well, at least he got to talk to her. Not the way he would have wanted it, but still… Maybe he'll even get her number. If he could still think straight by the time they get to that freaking motel_.

"So, Sam, where am I taking you, anyway?" Lynn asked, and Sam gave her the name of the motel. He tried giving her the directions but she stopped him. "I know the place." She said, turning the radio on and playing with the stations. Sam cringed. He was so going to pay for that. No one messes with Dean's radio. _Maybe the fact that this was a hot chick would get his brother to be a little more merciful and end his life quickly_, Sam thought, hoped. Lynn tried to make small talk as she drove, but Sam was in no condition to actually pay attention. He kept fantasizing about the nice bottle of Tylenol and the nice bed waiting for him at the motel, it took him a minute to realize she was laughing. His brow creased. He'd heard that laughter before, but he couldn't place it. Thinking he was probably just imagining it, Sam shrugged it off, and asked her what was so funny, only to blush when he realized he totally spaced out when she was talking to him. She gave him a sympathetic look.

"It really hurts, doesn't it?" she asked. Sam looked questioningly at her. "Your head. The migraine." She explained, and he nodded. "Been having them for long?" she asked.

"About a year or so." Sam answered, closing his eyes again.

"I'm sorry. It looks painful." Lynn said in a soft voice, glancing his way, but her only answer was a slight nod. The rest of the way to the motel was spent in blessed silence. She even turned off the radio, to which Sam was truly grateful. "We're here." She said at last, and Sam forced his eyes open again. He gave a slight nod.

"Thanks." He said, looking at her, "You really didn't have to do this. Can I pay you or something?" he offered. She smiled.

"Oh, don't be stupid, I am glad I could help." She said, "You really don't have to pay me."

"But you're going to need to get back and you don't have a car." Sam insisted. "Please, at least let me give you some money for a cab or something."

"You know what, I'll be at the Barcode tomorrow night. It's the local bar." She said and Sam nodded, having been there more than a few times himself, along with Dean. "Why won't you buy me a bear then? Call it even?" she said, and Sam grinned. He couldn't believe his luck. And then the headache reminded him exactly what his luck could have caused when he almost lost control at the wheel. _Damn freaking shining_.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." Sam said as they both got out of the car and she handed him the keys. They shook hands, both holding on a little longer than necessary, and then both smiled. "You sure I can't pay for a taxi or something?" Sam offered again. She rolled her eyes, laughing, and Sam had another feeling of déjà vu, something about a cab and her laughing.

"Just don't forget you owe me a drink." She said, and turned to leave but then stopped, turning to face him again. "Oh, and do me a favor? Careful about driving like that, would you?" she said, and then left. Sam watched her for a moment and then groaned, stumbling back to the room, and then cursed and grunted as he remembered the takeout still waiting in the car. He had lost his appetite, the mere thought of food making his stomach lurch, but there was no excuse to just leave it out in the car. Taking it out, Sam finally made it back to the room.

* * *

Lynn didn't get too far though. She watched Sam from a distance, biting her lip as he returned to the car and exhaling loudly as he finally got back in the motel room. She took out her cell phone, hitting the autodial. This wasn't her favorite way of communication, but it would have to do until she was alone with no witnesses. The phone rang a couple of times before it was answered.

"Hey, it's me." Lynn said, a smile creeping to her lips. "Yes, I was with him right now. It's working." She said, her smile widening as she listened to the voice on the other side of the line. "Oh, don't worry. I will. You can tell Father he'll have what he wants. Doesn't mean a girl can't have some fun though, does it?"

TBC

A/N: The next chapter is almost done, actually. Reviews might convince me to update a little earlier...


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Sam opened his eyes, still feeling a little sleepy. The headache was down to a dull throb now. And then he was suddenly aware of someone moving in the room. He turned quickly, looking at his brother's bed. It was empty.

"Mornin'," Sam smothered a yawn and blinked at Dean, who was sitting at the rickety dining table sipping a cup of coffee. "I see you're trying to catch up on your beauty sleep." Dean noted. Sam scratched his head, shoving his covers aside, and scrambled out of bed and into the bathroom. "Won't help you, you know," Dean cried after him, "I'm still going to be the handsome one." Sam smiled at the comment, washing his hands.

"And the shorter one." He smirked as he got out of the bathroom. Dean glared at him, and Sam smiled, rubbing his fingers against his temple. It was already getting dark outside. Sam wondered how long ago Dean had woken up. By the looks of him, it wasn't that long ago.

"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked, noticing Sam didn't look his best. "You had anything to eat today?" Sam sighed, sitting down across from his brother and reaching for the takeout bag he brought in earlier. Half of it was still there. He grabbed it, along with the plastic utensils.

"Vision." He said matter-of-factly. Dean winced in sympathy.

"When?" he asked. Sam shrugged.

"A while ago. It's not too bad now." He said, shoving food in his mouth.

"Let me guess," Dean said, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Yeah," Sam sighed, not having to wait for Dean's guess. If he had been a little less groggy, he might have noticed the dark circles that started to form under Dean's eyes or the haggard way his brother was holding himself – but he didn't.

"Still the same one?" the older hunter sounded thoughtful. "I don't get it, we took care of the problem. We got the job done. Why're you still having the damn thing?" Sam shrugged.

"Don't know." He said, looking around to see if there was something else left to eat. He was still hungry.

"And it's the exact same one?" Dean pressed, his brow creased in thought. Sam looked at him.

"Variations, but basically, yeah. The same one." Sam said tossing the empty plastic containers back in the bag. "You know, it's strange, man. It's like they don't want me to leave this place or something." Dean gave him a long look.

"So, what, you think the job's not over or something? You want to hang around here a little longer?" he asked eventually. Sam frowned.

"Hell, no." he said quickly and Dean raised a brow. "No, I think we need to get as far from here as we can." Sam added, getting to his feet "Whatever's trying to keep me here, I'm not sure I want to know what it is." Dean's eyes followed Sam for a moment, holding his gaze, and then Dean gave a slight nod.

"First thing tomorrow." He said, "Unless you want to hit the road now?" he suggested. Sam shook his head. They both needed the rest, they might as well hit the road tomorrow.

"Tomorrow's fine." Sam said, going back to his bed and taking the remote, turning the TV on. He stiffened when Dean sucked in his breath, his eyes going wide. "Dean?" the younger hunter swallowed, his eyes going to his bag, where he had his gun. Seeing Dean getting to his feet, his eyes fixed on something just behind Sam, the younger hunter reacted quickly, jumping off the bed and rolling to the floor to take cover.

"Sam, quick, there's a pillow on the bed!" Dean cried at the same time as Sam jumped off the bed, "Grab the gun, duck for cover!" Sam gave Dean a furious look, shuffling back to his feet. He tossed his pillow at Dean's face to stop him from laughing so hard. Dean quickly deflected the pillow, still laughing and pointing, so Sam tossed his other pillow at his brother. Dean caught that one, holding it to his chest as he roared in laughter. Sam shook his head, but couldn't help a small grin from creeping onto his lips. Besides, he would have paid to hear Dean laugh like that. So for now, he'll let it go. For now.

* * *

Sam kept flipping through the channels. There was absolutely nothing to see, and he was getting hungry again. He thought about going back to sleep, but it was still too early for that. 

"What are you up to?" he asked Dean when he noticed the older brother changing his clothes.

"Well, we're going to need some gas money." Dean said, shrugging his jacket on, and Sam straightened.

"Dean, I really think you should try and get some rest. You shouldn't be going anywhere." Sam said, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"I told you Sammy, I'm…"

"You're fine, right." Now it was Sam's turn to roll his eyes. "And that's why you were out cold for almost an hour last night," he said, "and why you passed out after that." he added just as Dean was about to protest. "Look, Dean, man, I know you. You're always fine, until it's too late to do anything about it. Not this time. Not on my watch."

"What are you talking about? You're the one that should rest. You're in no shape to go out yourself, so why won't you just rest for the night. I'll try not to wake you when I get back. How's your head anyway?"

"Changing the subject much?" Sam got up, walking over to the small table and making sure the car keys were still there. He quickly pocketed them. There was no way he was letting Dean out of his sight.

"Sam,"

"Dean!" the brothers stared at each other, and for the first time Sam could remember, Dean was the first to look away. He licked his lips and looked back at Sam.

"I don't need a babysitter, Sam." Dean said in a low voice, "I'm not going to drink, I'm not planning on getting into trouble…"

"Do you ever actually plan on getting in trouble?" Sam pointed out. Dean cocked his head to the side, nodding at Sam's point. "Look, just give me twenty minutes. I think a quick shower will help take care of the headache."

"I got a better plan," Dean said. "Why won't you take a shower, and then go back to bed?" Sam shot Dean an irritated look.

"Either I'm going with you, or you're not going either, Dean." He insisted.

"Sam, no offence, buddy, but you look like shit." Sam frowned.

"Have you taken a good look at yourself in the mirror lately?" he asked, and then actually took a good look at his brother. He had to stop himself from gasping. Dean looked… sick. Really sick. But Dean just smirked.

"Yeah, I'm still a chick magnet." Dean said, his smirk widening. "Look, Sam, with that headache of yours, you're not gonna be much help. I mean, I'll get all distracted with those puppy eyes and screw up my game, and we need the cash. So why won't you just stay here and rest? You could call dad, see if he has a job for us." Dean suggested.

"I'll stay and rest if you will." Sam said, crossing his hands over his chest. He thought it a little odd that Dean asked him to call their dad. And he didn't answer the phone when dad called, what was that about? Did they get in a fight or something? Sam made a mental note to actually call their dad and find out.

"Are we seriously back to that whole five-year-old shit?" Dean snapped.

"Dean, you're not okay." Sam said adamantly. Dean sighed in exasperation.

"Sam, I was… That thing came at me, I guess I was… I dunno, distracted. And the damn thing was heavy, too. I think I popped a couple of ribs or something." Dean said, and Sam could swear his brother was flushing. And what did he mean he got distracted? Dean _never_ got distracted on a hunt. "But I'm fine now, really." Dean quickly went on, not giving Sam the chance to talk, "I just needed some rest, I guess." Sam raised a brow, giving Dean a look that just screamed _'yeah, right, who're you kidding?'_, but Dean ignored him.

"Look, just give me one of those nice prescription pain killers of yours and I'm good as new." Sam suggested. "Besides, I'm hungry, and they do have really good hot wings." Sam added, and then grinned as he remembered another something hot that would be there tonight. Dean looked at him with surprise mixed with suspicion, and then a grin slowly crept onto his lips. Sam knew that grin. Nothing good ever came out when Dean had _that_ grin on his face.

Dean gave a small shrug. Walking over to his duffle, he took out the bottle of painkillers, took one out, and brought it over to Sam, before walking over to the bathroom to bring him a glass of water. Sam looked at the large yellow pill with trepidation. No way would Dean give up that easily. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure Dean was still in the bathroom, and then reached for the bottle of pills, looking intently at it. And there it was. In tiny letters, but still, it was there. A warning, in red letters. _Caution – causes severe drowsiness. Do not consume while driving or operating heavy machinery_… Sam didn't even bother reading the rest of it. He put the pill back in the bottle and helped himself to a couple of aspirins instead.

* * *

Sam followed Dean back into the bar, his eyes skimming around. The woman from before, he couldn't believe he'd forgotten her name, wasn't there. Oh well, the night was young. The brothers sat at a table and Dean eyed the pool table. There didn't seem to be a lot of action there. Well, that was about to change, hopefully. 

"Hey, you want something to eat?" Sam suggested.

"Yeah," Dean answered, a little distractedly, "Hey, you don't suppose they have coffee, do they?"

"I'll ask." Sam said, slipping off his seat and heading for the bar, still hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman he was supposed to meet. He placed an order for the both of them, praying someone would be kind enough to shoot the stereo system, and returned to the table.

"So, where do you want to go tomorrow?" Dean asked once Sam sat back down. Sam shrugged.

"Um… to the left?" he suggested, bringing a smile to Dean's lips. It didn't really matter where they went, it's not like they had any place to go to.

"I'll get a paper in the morning, see if we could get better directions or a gig or something." Dean said, flashing a smile at the waitress who brought him his coffee. Sam frowned as the waitress quickly left.

"Hey, you sure you're okay?" Sam asked suspiciously. Dean took a swig from his coffee, moaning in content.

"I am, now." He said, but rolled his eyes at the look on Sam's face. "Oh, jeez, Sam, now what?" he sighed. Sam shrugged.

"Nothing. It's just… You didn't even try to flirt with her." Sam said, motioning at the waitress.

"So?" Dean asked, leaning back in his seat. "She's not my type." Sam raised a brow.

"_You_ have a type? I thought the only requirements were female and with a pulse." Dean gave him a dirty look.

"Well, nice, hotshot. When was the last time you flirted with a girl?" Dean said dryly. Sam smiled, spotting the woman getting in the bar. She was wearing a printed shirt and a tiny black skirt. Definitely his type. _Damn it, what was her name again?_

"Well, today, actually." Sam said, and Dean snorted.

"Yeah, right, I'll believe it when I see it." He snapped. Sam shrugged, his smile growing, and headed over to the bar, but the woman disappeared. Damn, she was only out of his line of sight for one second. Swallowing hard, Sam turned. _Oh, great. I'm never going to hear the end of that_… he thought as he made his way back to the table and was met with the most annoying smirk known to man.

Who knew three minutes could be that long? Three minutes that seemed to last lifetimes of Dean making fun of him before his obnoxious brother finished his damn coffee and went over to the pool table. Sam was definitely planning on slipping his brother one of those pills of his to make sure he slept the entire day tomorrow.

He shook his head as Dean still smirked at him from across the bar. First the pillow thing, and now this… Dean was going to be impossible… Sam frowned when he felt something in his pocket vibrate. The music was too loud for him to actually hear his phone ringing. He looked at the screen, but it said 'Unknown'. It was probably their dad, returning the call. One thing could be said about their father; although he still rarely picked up the phone when they called, ever since the accident he has made it a point to always call back. He even made it a point to be in touch with them at least once a week. Sam slipped out of the bar, there was no way he could hear anything from within. Standing just outside, he flipped his phone open and called their dad back. John answered in a heartbeat.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah, hi dad. Sorry I didn't answer." Sam said, looking around, making sure no one was watching him the wrong way.

"You boys alright?" John asked, and Sam actually hesitated. "Sammy?" Sam bit his lower lip. Dean would tear him a new one if he knew Sam ratted him out to their dad. On the other hand… "Sammy?"

"I'm still here, dad. Yeah, we're fine. It's just…" Sam was having difficulty finding the words.

"You boys got the job done?"

"Yes, sir." Was the automatic reply, rolling off Sam's lips before he even realized it. There was a moment of awkward silence, and then John went on.

"How's your brother doing?" Sam swallowed. "He's not answering my calls, Sam. What's going on?"

"I don't know." Sam admitted.

"But there is something going on?" Sam nodded, even though he knew his father couldn't see him.

"Yeah, I think so." Sam said, and licked his lips. "Dad, did you know Dean is still on painkillers?" Sam asked, "I mean, it's not like he has a problem or something, but it has been a really long time… And the other night, we were hunting, and he passed out again. He was out cold for a really long time…" there was a long pause from the other side of the line, and Sam could feel his cheeks heating up as he flushed. He felt like a five year old, telling on his brother.

"He say something to you?" John asked eventually.

"No, sir." Sam answered, "But you know Dean, he'd never say anything…"

"Well, you keep an eye on your brother, and you call me if something's up, okay son?"

"Yeah, but dad, he needs… I don't know, he needs to rest, but he wouldn't listen to me." Sam said, eyeing a group that just entered the bar. They seemed to be looking for trouble. _Oh, goody, and Dean was inside. Guess what's going to happen?_

"He won't listen to me either, Sam, so just… do what you can." John said, and if Sam wasn't leaning against the side of the bar, he would have fallen to his knees at that statement. Dean wasn't listening to their father?_ What the hell was going on? And why didn't he get the memo about hell freezing over and pigs flying?_ "Look, Sam, I have to go now, but keep me informed." John added.

"Yes, sir." Sam said, and closed his phone. They definitely had to get out of his place and join their father. They needed to make sure Dean kept no more secrets.

Sam got back inside, intending on walking straight to his brother and dragging him back to the motel. That is, until he saw her again. He couldn't help the stupid grin on his lips. She noticed him, too, and smiled back at him. Sam gave her a slight nod of acknowledgement and headed her way. She was sitting at one of the small tables, a bottle of beer in her hand.

"Hi again," Sam said, racking his mind trying to remember her name. It was on the tip of his tongue, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember.

"Hi yourself." She said, motioning for him to sit down, "I almost thought you weren't going to show up tonight." She said, leering at him.

"Oh, come on. I'm a man of my word. I did promise you a beer, didn't I?" Sam said, pretending he was insulted. She smiled at him again.

"Oh, then by all means…" she said, "I can go for another." Sam motioned for the bartender to get him two beers, and the bartender nodded. Sam returned his attention back to the young woman in front of him. Lynn, it finally came to him. "So, Sam, I don't remember seeing you around town." Lynn started toying with the label on the beer bottle.

"No, I'm actually just passing though." Sam said. "I'm on a road trip, actually." He added at her questioning look.

"Really? That sounds interesting." She said, leaning towards him. Sam made a face, trying his best to smile and look convincing. He noticed a movement from the corner of his eye, recognizing one of the men from the group he saw earlier. His eyes went to his brother. Dean was in the middle of a game, paying little attention to the people around, or so he led people to believe. Sam knew his brother never let his guard down. He blinked when he realized Lynn was talking to him.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked, a little embarrassed.

"I said you don't really look the type." She repeated herself, looking up at the waitress who just showed up with their beers. Sam's stomach growled, and he eyed his and Dean's dinners getting cold on the table in the back. He toyed with the idea of bringing Lynn there, but quickly dismissed the thought. The last thing he wanted was for Dean to step in and screw everything up. Literally or not.

"What type?" Sam asked once the waitress was gone again.

"You know, the getting drunk senseless type." Lynn observed, taking a sip from her beer. Sam smiled.

"I'm not, actually. I hardly ever drink." He said. He could feel himself blushing, and God, please, don't let her see this… _Oh, man, and if there was a God, please don't let Dean see this…_

"So, no chance of you getting drunk tonight?" Lynn asked playfully. Sam let out a little laugh, shaking his head slightly.

"Probably not." He said. Lynn cocked her head to the side, raising her glass.

"What can I say, I do love a challenge." She laughed. "So, tell me, Sammy, where's your girlfriend?" Sam raised a brow. That sort of came from left field. And it still hurt to think about it. He knew Lynn didn't mean anything by it, that it was just an innocent question, but he couldn't stop the image of Jessica from jumping into his mind.

"Um…" he swallowed, "What makes you think I have a girlfriend?"

"Boyfriend?" Lynn tried again. Sam grinned, shaking his head. Lynn gave a small nod of satisfaction. "Good. Just so we're clear about that."

"And by the way, it's Sam." Sam said, reaching for his beer. It was now Lynn's turn to look at him quizzically. "I don't like it when people call me Sammy. It's Sam." He clarified. She gave another small nod.

"Sam it is."

* * *

"Hey, there, you two. Having fun?" Sam nearly choked on his beer. "Easy there, tiger." Dean said, patting Sam's back. 

"Um, Dean, what are you doing here?" Sam choked.

"Now, now, is that a nice way to introduce me to the lady?" Dean said, giving her _that_ grin. _Oh God, how was he supposed to compete with _that Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head as Lynn practically melted in front of him. _And he was doing so well…_ Sam cleared his throat.

"Lynn, this is my brother, Dean. Dean, this is Lynn." Sam said, and gritted her teeth as Lynn reached her hand to shake Dean's.

"Well, don't you let me get in the way, you love birds, I just came here to tell you that I'm heading back to the motel." Dean said, winking mischievously at Lynn.

"Wait, now? Why?" Sam asked.

"'Cause it's late, and I'm beat." Dean said simply. Sam frowned and was about to argue when he took a look at the time. It was after one in the morning, and they were planning to leave early. They should have been back at the motel hours ago. Sam started to speak, but Dean stopped him. "Look, you gonna get back to the motel alright or do you need me to wait? I can leave you money for a cab if you need some…" Dean started in a low voice so that Lynn won't hear him.

"No." Sam said, "No, I'm fine. You should go, get some rest. I'll be there soon." Sam said, patting Dean's shoulder.

"You sure? I mean, it's not like you have a curfew, Sammy. You are allowed to have fun once in a while. God knows it way overdue…" Dean said, smirking. It was lucky for the older hunter that looks can't kill, or he would never have made it to the next morning.

"Don't you have to go, Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean cleared his throat, "Nice meeting you." He gave Lynn another of his patented grins and then left.

"Interesting brother you have." Lynn smiled at Sam, who snorted. _Yeah, right. Interesting_.

TBC

A/N: Okay, not much action in this one, but things will get heated up soon enough... Please review, this story is really difficult to write, and I really like to know what you're thinking.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Well, things are escalating here, and I'm not just talking about the story. It's a beautiful, sunny Saturday, yet it's raining rockets around here. It's a war zone, literally, and since we have to stay near the shelters, I got nervous, and when I'm nervous, I write. So here it is, the next chapter, two days early. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Six

"So, she looked nice." Dean noted. It was the first time he spoke in the past hour, as they made their way out of town. Sam gave a slight nod. She was nice. He actually wouldn't mind getting to know her better. Dean glanced at him and Sam braced himself for the snarks to come. "You gonna call her again?" Dean asked. Sam shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position.

"Yeah, prob'bly." He said, hoping that Dean would lay off, but knowing better. Boy, was he surprise when Dean actually let it go.

"So, anything interesting in the paper?" Dean asked almost fifteen minutes later.

"Maybe." Sam said, "Hey, Dean, you think we should, maybe, meet up with dad?" Dean glanced at him questioningly.

"Why?" he asked, his tone a little harsher than he intended.

"I don't know," Sam said, "hunt together or something."

"I thought you didn't like hunting with dad." Dean said, "I thought you hated how he treats you like a kid and orders you around and stuff." Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Well, yeah… But…"

"Dad's after the Demon." Dean cut him off. "Not much we can help him with, there. Unless you had another vision?" Dean gave Sam a quick glance and Sam shook his head. "So what's the point?" Dean went on. "At least we could help some people out while he's looking." Sam couldn't think of anything to say, so he didn't say anything and just turned the radio on.

* * *

The brothers stopped at a small road-side restaurant for lunch when Dean suggested they start looking for a place to spend the night. Sam nearly choked on his salad. 

"You want to do what?" he breathed, still coughing, and reached for his drink. Dean hid behind a newspaper, pretending not to hear Sam, which was pretty lame, since _everyone_ at the small restaurant heard Sam. As Sam continued to stare, Dean sighed, putting the paper away.

"Look, Sam, to tell you the truth, I am a little tired. And we haven't found any real jobs yet, so I don't see a reason to rush off anywhere." Dean said calmly, finishing the last of his lasagna. Sam blinked a couple of times.

"Dean…"

"I'm fine, Sam," Dean sighed exasperatedly, "I'm just tired."

"Okay." Sam said quickly. It wasn't often that Dean actually admitted weakness, and when he did, it usually meant there was something much worse going on. "We'll look for a place, and I'll do some research, see if there're any jobs out there while you rest." Sam suggested. Dean gave a slight nod. "And, you know, I could drive every now and then." Sam suggested a moment later. Dean snorted.

"No, thanks. I really don't think we can afford another car."

* * *

"Wake up! Come on, Sammy, wake up! It's only a dream, buddy, come on." Sam woke with a jolt, breathing hard, to find Dean sitting next to him, looking down at him worriedly. 

"Dean?" Sam blinked, not quite awake yet.

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm right here." Dean said softly, rubbing Sam's back gently while looking worriedly down at his baby brother. It took Sam a moment to realize he was still clutching Dean like a lifeline, but he was reluctant to let go of his brother just yet. Dean didn't try to pull away. "It looked like a really bad one." He noted. Sam let out a shaky breath, finally letting go of the older brother.

"Yeah." He muttered, pushing himself up and getting to his feet. He had fallen asleep on the chair while doing his research. Sam didn't remember falling asleep. He was surfing the net when his eyes wandered to his sleeping brother and his mind started to work overtime. He must have fallen asleep. _Man, did he wish he hadn't_.

Sam bee-lined to the bathroom. He leaned heavily against the cracked sink, turning the water on and sprinkling water on his face, telling himself over and over again that it had just been a bad dream. It wasn't real.

"You want to talk about it?" Sam could see his brother in the mirror, leaning against the door frame. Sam shook his head, clenching his jaw and swallowing the bile that was beginning to rise again. "You okay?" Dean asked, making sure. Sam let out another shaky breath and then nodded lightly. Dean was there with him. He wasn't dead. The demon didn't kill him, he didn't bleed to death in the car. Okay, so he was different somehow. Snappier, all business, and apparently, had some issues with their dad. So what? After what he'd been through, Sam was more than happy to just have Dean around.

"What time is it?" Sam asked. Dean glanced at his watch.

"Almost eight." He said. "You sure you're okay?" Sam smirked, looking at his brother through the mirror.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine." He said. _See how he likes it_. Sam got out of the bathroom and sat down at the table. The laptop was open. "You're still looking for a job?" Sam asked. Dean gave him a strange look, almost hesitant, and then smirked.

"Well, actually, I think I found one." He said.

"Oh, yeah?" Sam asked. Hunting would actually be good right now. After that nightmare, going out and killing some evil SOB seemed like a good thing to do. Dean cleared his throat, and Sam braced himself. Dean rarely needed to clear his throat. When he did so, it often meant he was trying to find a way to say something he didn't want to say. And that was usually not good.

"Actually... I found _me_ a job." Dean said, licking his lips.

"No way!" Sam snapped, whirling around to face his brother. "You're not going on a solo mission, Dean. Out of the question. I mean, are you even sane? Did that poltergeist knock something loose in your brain or something? How could you think…"

"Whoa, whoa, easy there, tiger." Dean cut him off, raising his hands. "It's not like that."

"Not like that?" Sam cried incredulously, "Dean…"

"Sam," Dean stopped him again, "Look, it's not our usual gig. It's not even a gig, really, just a favor." Dean said, "Look, I got this call from a friend of mine. She needs some help," He tried to explain, but Sam cut him off.

"So we'll go together." Sam said in a tone that had finality to it.

"Look, there's no point, really. She's having some trouble with her landlord, she just wants someone to rattle the guy, scare him off, make sure she and her kids are safe, that kind of thing." Dean said quickly. "I'll just go, knock some sense into the guy, and come back. No reason for you to be dragged along. I mean, I know how much you don't like it, you know, feeling like luggage and stuff."

"What? Dean, are we back to that crap?" Sam couldn't believe it. He'd told Dean a thousand times that it wasn't like that, that hanging around and staying with his brother wasn't a burden. That is was his choice. Obviously, Dean still didn't believe him. "Look, I want to go with you, okay?" Sam said, "I mean, what else am I supposed to do?" Sam regretted those words the minute they were out of his mouth. He meant it, it just didn't sound the way he wanted it to. It sounded like he didn't have a choice, and that was exactly the opposite of what he was trying to say. Dean's face was a mask. Completely unreadable. And Sam hated that.

They were doing so well. They were starting to fall back to their old routine from before Sam had left for college. Yes, sometimes it was hard, and yes, Dean often got on his nerves, but deep down, Sam loved it. Yes, he bitched and whined about hunting, but it did give him a rush. And the ride back to the motel after a hunt going right, with his brother by his side, that was probably one of his favorite things.

And then the Demon ruined it all. Ruined everything, for the third time in Sam's life. It wasn't that things were tense between him and Dean, but before, Dean actually started opening up. When he came to get Sam, he was all walls, and then he was finally starting to open up, telling Sam all those things he never knew, like how he had wanted to be a fireman. And now… Sam signed mentally. Now the walls were back up, and there was probably a moat around them, too. A clairvoyant would have trouble seeing into Dean now. And Sam hated that, he really did.

Dean swallowed and smirked. "You know, you could look for a new gig. Start a new job on your own. It's not like you need me." He said, his voice a little hollow. Sam shook his head exasperatedly. Dean was definitely not over what happened at the cabin, no matter how hard he insisted that he was.

"Dean…"

"What?" Dean said casually as he turned away and picked up his duffle, tossing it on his bed. "You don't need me, Sam. You're a big boy now. You know the job, you've been doing it a long time. You don't need me."

"Yes, I do." Sam said quickly. _How could Dean ever think that he didn't need him?_ "Dean, I'll always need you." Sam said softly and Dean snorted.

"Right…"

"Dean…"

"Look, if you don't think you're ready to hunt on your own, you could call dad, hunt with him for a while. You know, go after the Demon and all that stuff. Fight something other than pillows for a change…" he smirked, winking at Sam. Sam glared at him in exasperation.

"Yeah, and in the meantime you'll be off fighting… what?" Sam demanded.

"A big, fat, balding landlord?" Dean offered, and Sam snorted. No way was he falling for that. _Come on, Dean, you can lie so much better than that_… "Or, you know," Dean shrugged, "I could just drop you off somewhere, if you want..." He offered. "Come on, what do you say?" Sam was about to burst at him, to tell Dean he was full of crap and that he really needed to just shut it and go to sleep. To tell him that they weren't going to go hunting for a while, at least not until Dean was feeling better. As if Sam believed Dean when he said he was fine, pah-lease.

But then he was struck with the thought that maybe Dean was just planning to rest for a while. Dean looked wrong. Sick even. And with his ego, Sam knew there was no chance Dean would ever admit it. Maybe this was his way of asking some time off without actually saying it. But can Sam really trust him on that? On the other hand, there was somewhere he didn't mind being, and Dean's absence would come in handy there…

"Fine." He said eventually, and smiled at the shocked look on Dean's face.

"It is?" Dean asked, unsure.

"Yeah." Sam shrugged. "As long as you're not working a job on your own…"

"I'm not." Dean said quickly and Sam shrugged again.

"Then fine. Okay." Sam said again. Dean scratched the back of his head.

"So, can I give you a ride or something?" he asked.

"Yeah. Tomorrow, though." Sam said, slumping down on his bed and flicking the TV on. Dean hesitated a moment, but then took the duffle off his bed and slumped down on it, pushing himself up against the headboard.

"So, where do you want to go?" Dean asked a moment later. Sam felt his cheeks reddening. He kept his eyes on the TV.

"Um… Actually, I wouldn't mind going back." He said in a small voice. Dean frowned.

"Back where?" he asked, and Sam's cheeks felt like they were on fire. Luckily, Dean saved him from actually having to say it. He grinned, folding his arms under his head. "Aw, Sammy," He smirked, "you sure know how to make a brother proud." He said, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye, and Sam tossed a pillow at him, which Dean caught and put behind him, to elevate himself farther. "Wait, you want to go back to Armain? But I thought you wanted out of that place as soon as possible?" Dean said a moment later, eyeing his brother. Sam looked sheepishly at him.

"Yeah, I did…" he stuttered, "That… um…" he cleared his throat, "That sorto' was before… you know." _Oh, God, kill me now_… Sam thought, bracing himself for Dean's comments, but Dean just made a face, smirked knowingly and annoyingly, and then closed his eyes, his head resting on his arms, and was soon drifting into sleep.

* * *

It's been five days since Dean had left Sam. Five surprisingly great days. Sam was actually enjoying the rare time he had to be on his own. No nightmares as of yet, no blinding visions. Sam could pretend to be just a normal guy for a while. A normal guy, spending most of his time with a normal girl he liked. Well, spending the evenings, and an occasional night, actually. Lynn worked in the mornings. And as luck had it, she was an intern in a law firm, just finishing her law degree in the small community college. Sam couldn't believe how much they had in common. He did dig around for a while, looking her up, making sure she was legit, and so far, nothing seemed out of place. He even met her parents once, by accident, as he came to pick her up from class. So far, everything seemed… normal. 

His dad called the other day, asking to speak to Dean. _So, Dean was still avoiding their dad_. Sam told his father to just back off a little, give Dean some space, which, of course, led to an argument. All normal, in a twisted, Winchester kind of way.

He talked to Dean several times a day, though, calling his brother at all hours to make sure he wasn't on a job. At some point, Dean got irritated and started calling in the middle of the night, just to be the ass he usually was, but that was okay. Irritating Dean and being irritated by Dean was normal, and Sam did like normal.

Dean told him he was going to Colorado, and that he should be a while, and Sam supposed it was Dean-speak for 'I'm going to get hooked up'. He didn't mind, really. He was sort of busy hooking up himself. It didn't even occur to him how uncharacteristic it was until he tried to imagine Dean's reaction to the news. Maybe there was something about that girl. And then again, maybe they just clicked right away.

On the forth day, Sam got a call from Dean. A strange kind of call. There were some strange sounds in the background. It sounded familiar, but it took Sam a couple of minutes to put his finger on it. He sucked in his breath.

"Dean, are you in a hospital?" silence, and that beeping and hissing noise. And Sam knew. He just _knew_. He cursed himself, shaking his head. Right, trust Dean when he says he won't go on a job by himself.

"Well, um, yeah. Actually, I am." Dean said in a tone of voice that said he knew he was busted.

"Dean,"

"Now, wait a minute, before you jump to any conclusions, it's not what you think!" Dean said quickly. Sam took a deep breath, grinding his teeth and trying to keep his temper in check. "I'm here with Carla, the woman I told you about? Her kid's got pneumonia or something, so I just gave them a ride. I'm fine, dude, really." Dean added quickly.

"Oh, yeah?" Sam said through gritted teeth. "Why won't you put her on the phone then?" he could practically hear Dean gulp, and narrowed his eyes. "Where the hell are you?" Sam demanded.

"In the pediatric ward," Dean said, "Oh, wait, there she is. I'm gonna call her, wait a sec, will ya? And don't get your panties all up in a twist." Dean said, and for a moment there, all Sam could hear was background noise and the sound of his heart pounding. He stood there, holding the phone to his ear, and seethed. _He was so going to kick his brother's _ass_! And then he was going to tell his father so that they could both kick his ass! And then he was going to call Missouri. She wasn't that far away, Sam was sure she wouldn't mind kicking Dean's ass, too. And then… and then… well, he'll think of something even more unpleasant_.

And then he could hear a woman's voice on the phone. A hoarse, dry voice, but too feminine to be his brother's. "Um… hello?" she asked.

"Who is this?" Sam asked. He wasn't wrong, and he knew it. This woman, whoever she was, couldn't possibly be…

"My name's Carla. Is this Dean's baby brother?" she asked. _Damn!_ Still, Sam wasn't ready to admit his mistake. He wasn't wrong, and until he could see his brother right in front of him, he wasn't going to believe a word he said.

"This is Sam." Sam said, "I'm sorry about your kid." He added.

"Oh, thank you, dear. He had a rough night, but he'll be out of the hospital by tomorrow. They just want to make sure there're no complications. How sweet of you to take interest." Sam slumped in a chair, confused. _Okay, Dean was good. Dean was very good_. Sam almost bought into it. Almost.

"Hey, Sam?" it was Dean again. "Sammy?"

"Yeah." Sam said, shaking his head and bringing his mind back to his brother.

"Look, it's gonna take a little longer than I anticipated, alright? I mean, it's still not our usual gig, and that guy's pretty much taken care of, but…" Dean cleared his throat, "well, you know. It's gonna be a little longer." Sam shook his head again, rolling his eyes. "Oh, and, um… We're sort of…" Dean cleared his throat again, "We'll be someplace with really bad reception, so don't go have a heart attack if I don't answer the phone or anything. Just leave a message, okay?"

"Why?" Sam asked suspiciously, "Where will you be?"

"Oh, come on, little brother, don't ask me to spell it out for you. I thought you were getting some yourself…" Sam rolled his eyes again.

"Fine!" he said, "But you'd better call back, Dean, I mean it!"

"Scout's honor." Dean promised. Sam's brow creased, his eyes narrowing.

"You were never a boy scout! When I wanted to join, you were the one who said they were stupid little kids who thought being prepared means knowing how to saw!" he accused.

"Yeah, well…"

"Dean!"

"Look," Dean sighed, "I'll call, I promise." He added, and hung up before Sam had the time to argue. Sam narrowed his eyes, looking at the phone in his hand. He could probably run a trace on the call, see where Dean was really calling from. Yes, that was a good idea. If Sam knew anything, it was that Dean was, and will always be, Dean – and that meant that his stupid brother was off somewhere trying to prove he could hunt on his own even when he was obviously sick, or whatever. _That arrogant jerk_,_ why can't he just let me help him?_ Sam put his cell phone down on the table a little harder than he meant to, and turned on the laptop. Those internet guides on how to hack into computers sure did come in handy. It definitely did when he used one to hack into the St. Louise police records and changed the accused name from Dean Winchester to Dan Chester. So now his brother was legally alive again, and cleared of the murder charges.

Sam was just starting to work when he heard a knock on the door and frowned. His frown melted into a smile when he saw Lynn on the other side.

"Hey, aren't you ready yet? The movie starts at seven." She said, kissing Sam.

"No, sorry, I got a little distracted. Let me just put on a new shirt, and we're good to go."

* * *

"Look," Dean sighed, "I'll call, I promise." He added, and hung up as the nurse gave him another impatient glare. Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He muttered, handing over his cell phone. Cell phones weren't allowed in this ward, they told him, the signal interfered with the machinery. _Like he really cared. It's not like he wanted to be there in the first place._ "Hey, Carla?" he called out, and the nurse that was busy checking his vitals again looked up at him. "Thanks… you know, for helping me." He smiled at her, and she smiled back. She was in her late fifties, and actually did have a kid with pneumonia in the pediatric ward, a grandkid. He overheard her telling someone about that. Carla helped taking care of him the first time he was in this Missouri-bound hospital, after the accident. 

"Yes, well, it's the last time, sugar." She said, "You need to come clean with your family." She scolded him. Dean snorted.

"I don't think so." he said, "They have better things to worry about." He added, closing his eyes again. He really hated hospitals. He tried to refuse treatment when his cardiologist had him admitted, but then again, the whole point of driving back here was so that he could get some help, wasn't it? He'd been getting more and more tired doing less and less, and ever since that damned poltergeist decided to use his chest as target practice, he's been having chest pains. He would have shrugged it off, but he could practically hear Sam screaming at him if he keeled over and died of heart failure.

Kinda ironic, in a way. After all the trouble Sam went through to get him better after the electrocution and his following heart attack… At least, if he hadn't bothered, then that guy, Marshal, would still be alive. Dean let out a sigh, shaking his head. _This doctor has four days to make him better. Four days, and then he's out of here, no matter what_. He hated the idea of leaving Sam all on his own. There were things worse than pillows out there after all…

* * *

Sam smiled tiredly as he entered the motel room, closing the door behind him. It was such a great day, _almost perfect_, he thought to himself as he lay on his bed and closed his eyes. A content smile crept onto his lips as he took a deep breath. _He should change his clothes_, he though, _go to sleep_. 

Something hit his forehead. Something wet. A drop. And then another. Sam's heart began to race. _Oh, God, no! Not again! _A third drop found it's way to his forehead and Sam was shaking now. _I'm not going to open my eyes, this isn't happening, I'm not going to open my eyes_… And another drop. And Sam opened his eyes.

He let out a strangled cry at the sight of her body, pinned up to the ceiling. Her gut was slashed and dripping blood, her eyes open and accusing. _Why, Sam?_ She seemed to whisper without moving her lips. Sam screamed as the flames surrounded her, the heat so intense it almost burnt right through him.

"NO!" Sam screamed, shielding his face from the intense heat, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest as Lynn's accusing eyes still glared at him through the flames that quickly consumed her body. _Why, Sam?_ "NO! Dean!" and then, with a jolt, Sam awoke.

TBC

A/N: Yes, Dean lied to Sam about where he was, but seriously, that's just Dean, isn't it? Please review!


	7. Author's note

A/N: Hey guys. I know I'm supposed to update today, but since things here are less than normal, I can't seem to concentrate on this story. I did finish chapter 7, but I haven't edited it yet. I don't really have a place of my own at the moment, as I'm sharing a room with my sister's two year old boy, so it's kindo' difficult to write here. Hopefully, we'll get some quiet time soon, with no fire going on, and then I'll make it up to you with 3 chapters filled with angst and action (and Dean's birthday). Thanks for your patience, and hopefully I'll be able to update soon!

Samsara


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Dean bit his lower lip, reaching for the bottle of water he had on the passenger seat. He cursed when the water spilled on his shirt, taking his eyes from the road for only a split second. He was exhausted. More than that, he was drop-dead-tired. It was just after three A.M., and he had been driving for eighteen hours straight, going twenty miles per hour over the speed limit more often than not. But he knew he couldn't keep it up for long. The torrential rain made it almost impossible to see, and he didn't trust the car. It wasn't his Impala after all. Dean cursed loudly as he forced his eyes open and started looking for a place to spend what was left of the night.

He had gotten Sam's call the day before yesterday; three days into his hospital stay. His cardiologist changed his prescription and dosage, and even had Dean on an IV drip for a few hours, when a nurse noticed an arrhythmia. They told him the best way to get back in shape was to cut down on his caffeine. Yeah, right, take away the last thing he enjoyed. No way was Dean going to give that damn demon _that_ satisfaction.

And then came Sam's call. His heart monitor reacted immediately to the distress Dean heard in his little brother's voice. He would have left the hospital right then and there, if he hadn't gotten so damn dizzy and felt like his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest. They forced him to stay until his vitals returned to normal, and he was hell-bent on making up for the lost time. The drive to Missouri had taken him four days. The drive back to Texas took him half that time. By Dean's calculations, he should be there in about twelve more hours, if he just kept going. But like so many things in his life, his body finally betrayed him. Stopping at the first motel he passed, Dean got a room and passed out from exhaustion on the bed for almost ten hours.

He cursed when he saw the time and called Sam again. Sam answered the call on the forth ring. Dean's growing anxiety at the time it took Sam to answer eased a little at the sound of his baby brother.

"Dean?"

"Hey, Sammy. How're you doing there, kiddo?" Dean asked, hoping he didn't sound as tired as he thought he did.

"I'm fine, really. You okay there? You sound like crap." _Damn_.

"I'm just wiped, I've been driving for a few hours. Man, the traffic here's a bitch." Dean lied. The truth was, with all that rain he drove through the past couple of days, the roads were pretty much empty. He didn't want Sam to know that, though. He didn't want Sam to have the slightest clue as to where he had really been these past few days.

"Yeah, well, if the weather over there is as bad as it is down here, then drive carefully, okay? They've issued a sever weather alert here, and they say it could get worse." Dean peered out the window. There was no one outside. The wind was blowing harshly, bending trees and sending stray leaves and litter all over.

"Yeah, it's pretty messy out here, too." He said. "How about you, any nightmares, visions, any other shit I should know about?" he asked.

"No, not since I called you." Sam said after a short pause, and Dean knew he was lying.

"Sam…"

"Well, okay, I did have a nightmare or two, but just, you know, the regular kind. Not the coming true kind. At least, I hope so."

"Alright, well, listen, I'm about twelve hours away, but looks like it's gonna take me longer than that to get there in this weather. You sure you're all right?"

"I already told you, Dean, I was just freaking out over that dream. But I hadn't had it again, so… you know, keeping my fingers crossed."

"You and me both, little brother." Dean said, "You still keep the shotgun nearby?" he asked.

"Right by the door." Was Sam's quick reply.

"Salt all the doors and windows?" Dean made sure.

"Twice." Sam said, "Dean, seriously, I'm more worried about you driving in this storm than anything else, so… you know, try to find a place to hold out till it's over, okay? Promise me you won't drive until the weather clears up a bit." Dean looked longingly at the bed, and then looked up as a drop hit him in the eye. The roof was leaking. _Just great_. "Dean?"

"Huh?"

"Promise me you'll find somewhere to stay, that you won't drive in this weather." Sam repeated. Dean hesitated a moment longer. He could still hear the panic in his little brother's voice on the message he'd left on his voicemail.

"You sure?" Dean asked, making sure.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Sam answered. Dean nodded slightly. _Back to bed it is_. After a long shower. And hopefully, if he remembers correctly, there's a vending machine not far from his room…

"Yeah, okay. Listen, reception is pretty crappy with this weather, but I'll have my cell on me, so you can call whenever, okay?"

"I told you, man, I'm okay. Really." Sam said again. He did sound a helluva lot better, but Dean knew he just wouldn't be able to relax until he had Sam in his reach again, until he knew for sure that Sam was safe.

"Alright then. Stay out of trouble." Dean could hear Sam snort.

"Said the pot to the kettle…"

* * *

It was almost six in the morning when something woke Sam up with a start. A noise or something, he couldn't be sure. Peeking through nearly closed eyes, Sam strained to listen better. _Probably just the thunder storm_, he told himself a moment later and was about to go back to sleep when a knock on the door made him jump. Cursing, his heart racing, Sam looked at the time and resentfully dragged himself out of the nice, warm bed. He stopped to pick up the shotgun before peeking through the window. It was completely dark outside, and still raining cats and dogs, but he could see the car parked just outside. He let out a muttered curse, rolling his eyes and opened the door a second after another knock, stronger this time, was heard. 

"Well, it's about freaking time! I'm freezing my ass out here!" Dean muttered through clattering teeth and pushed through Sam inside the room. "A single? Damn it, Sammy, you couldn't switch to twin beds?"

Sam closed the door, noticing it wasn't that easy with the wind trying to keep it open, and took a long look at his older brother. Dean was shivering noticeably and looked beat. Sam wondered if his stubborn brother even listened to him when he told him not to drive in this weather. Probably not, he was here after all. Dean looked around the room, sitting on the only chair available, the other being occupied by Sam's duffle. Sam quickly picked Dean's own duffle off the floor, putting it on the table. It was moist, but not too wet, and luckily, none of the clothes inside got wet.

"I wasn't really expecting you yet," Sam noted as he looked through his brother's duffle, taking out a couple of warm shirts. "Come on, let's get you in the shower, get you warmed up a little and out of these wet clothes before you catch a cold."

"Aww, Sammy, is that what you tell all the girls you bring home?" Dean smirked.

Sam used the time Dean spent in the shower braving the strong wind on his way to and back from the main office where he got another room, one with two beds. He started packing, unable to resist taking another look in Dean's duffle. The pills were on top now, no longer hidden. He opened the bottle again, just to make sure. Still about the same amount of pills. Sam let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding.

Dean seemed better after the shower. He still looked tired, but Sam guessed that had something to do with the twelve-hour drive in terrible weather. Sam finished packing, but they still had a couple of hours until checkout, so he offered to go out for breakfast.

"Hey, why won't I drive?" Sam suggested. Dean narrowed his eyes. "It's just a couple of blocks." Sam said quickly, and Dean crossed his arms across his chest. "You'll be right there with me, in case anything happens…" Sam tried and Dean dropped his hands.

"Yeah, I know. That's what I'm afraid of." He said, and then smirked, taking the edge off his words. Sam rolled his eyes, and almost jumped when the set of keys was tossed his way. "Dude, seriously, first a pillow, now the keys?"

"Shut up!" Sam said, scratching the side of his neck and looking at the keys. His eyes went back to his brother. "You sure about this?" he asked, making sure. Dean just shrugged, taking his jacket and heading for the door.

* * *

Sam was talking on the phone, as quietly as he possibly could, his back turned on his sleeping brother. He was talking to Lynn, telling her the new room number, making plans for later that night, should the weather get better. He ended the call, and turned to check up on Dean, when he yelped, startled, his hand going to his chest. 

"Jeez, Dean, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Sam accused. "I thought you were still asleep."

"Nah, who can sleep with you yapping in their ears?" Dean asked, rubbing his stomach and heading for the bathroom. Sam rolled his eyes and went over to the window, peering outside. The weather got a little better. The drizzle that started less than an hour ago had stopped, and the sun was actually out. Even the wind seemed to stop for a while, but it was still uncharacteristically cold outside.

"So… we gonna talk about it anytime soon?" Dean asked as he got out of the bathroom. Sam didn't turn to look at him, a little distracted.

"Huh?"

"Sam!" at the tone in Dean's voice, Sam turned, looking quizzically at the older brother. "We gonna talk about this?" Dean repeated.

"About what?" Sam asked and Dean rolled his eyes.

"About the reason I dropped everything and drove through two states in two days? About the freaked ass message you left on my voicemail? About the vision?"

"It wasn't a vision." Sam said quickly. Maybe too quickly. Dean stared at him, raising a brow. _It wasn't a vision. It couldn't have been. Sam won't let it be. No way_.

Seeing his little brother hesitate, Dean narrowed his eyes. "Okay, so what was it?" he asked.

"A nightmare." Sam said, suddenly finding the carpet extremely interesting.

"Ah huh." Dean said, sitting down on the bed closest to the door. "You wanna tell me about it?" he asked.

"Not really." Sam said in an undertone. Maybe, if he didn't say it out loud, it'll go away.

"Sam…" there was a little hint of irritation in Dean's voice. Sam sat down on the other bed, still not looking at his brother.

"It was about Lynn." Sam said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Who?" Dean asked, and Sam remembered Dean only met Lynn once, and even then it was only for a minute.

"The girl, you know, the one I was with in the bar before we left…" Dean nodded slowly.

"The one you hooked up with," he said and Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's tact.

* * *

Dean walked down the street, breathing in the cool morning air. Well, if you can call twenty minutes to noon morning… He was on his way to the grocery store. For some freaky reason, he really didn't feel like a greasy cheeseburger for lunch. A fleeting thought of eating a salad crossed his mind, but he hunted it down, shot if full of mental rock salt, and burnt it. He had his limits, after all. He figured making pasta was a good way to go. It was easy to make, Sam loved it, and there'd be plenty of it with not that much money spent. He figured he'd grab some pre-made sauce while he was at it, he really didn't feel much like cooking. 

He wasn't sure how he felt about Sam's vision/dream/whatever. Sam seemed freaked out. He even wanted to tell Lynn all about it. Good thing Dean was back to make sure his little brother didn't do anything stupid like that. Dean was almost glad to know the Demon might be back for another round. He found himself anticipating it. He was just so weary, so tired of fighting. A part of him just wanted it over. And what more poignant way than by the same thing that killed his mother? The same thing that practically defined and shaped his entire life? He was never this glad not to have his father around, even if it meant he didn't have the Colt.

But on the other hand, he wasn't ready to go just yet. He wasn't ready to leave Sam, not when he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this damn Demon had plans for his brother, that It wanted him. And Sam was scared enough, feeling guilty enough as it was.

Sam had begged Dean to fight in that hospital, he had begged Dean to come back, and Dean did, unable to refuse his little brother. And now, if Sam's fears were proven true and this chick died… Well, his brother would need him, need Dean to be the strong one. Dean sighed mentally. He was tired of being the strong one. For once, he just wanted it all to be over. He just wanted a home and a real family, and no more monsters hiding in the dark. But since when did he get what he wanted anyway?

He picked up two different pastas he knew Sam liked, and took his time choosing the sauce. The line at the register was surprisingly long considering the hour, but he was in no hurry. Geek boy was doing all the research, which, for once meant his brother might get laid. Or maybe he already had. He was being less broody. He slept better, too, which was surprising considering the nightmare and its possible meaning.

Dean grinned at a cute woman not far from him. Well, he could have some fun too, while they were… waiting. Or doing a poor ass job, as he rather calling it. But hey, potato-potato, right? A sudden urge to get some fries was soon eradicated.

He moved in closer to the woman, who was trying to reach for something on a higher shelf. He effortlessly took it down for her, and she smiled at him, offering him her gratitude. He was just about to make his move when he noticed the baby stroller. Well, that was his cue. Never hit on a mother, no matter how cute. Well, there _were_ exceptions, but not today. The baby stirred in the stroller, but didn't seem to wake.

"That's a cute little baby you've got." He offered, and she beamed with pride. _Might as well make her day_._ It wasn't any day that someone like Dean Winchester flirted with you after all_…

"Oh, she's just perfect, isn't she?" the young mother beamed, reaching for the sleeping toddler and tucking the soft blanket tighter around her. Dean smiled, amusing her. "You are, you're a perfect little baby." The mother cooed, fussing over the sleeping child and Dean was about to leave when the words seemed to escape his mouth before he was even aware of them.

"How old is she?"

"Six months." The mother answered. "It passes so quickly, you know? Six months ago today I was finally out of the delivery room with this bundle of joy. That's her name, by the way. Joy." The woman smiled and Dean smiled back, though there seemed to be a lump in his throat and his stomach was doing flip-flops.

"Six months? She's six months old, today?" he asked, his voice a little husky. The mother nodded, pushing the stroller down the isle, and thanking him again for his help. Dean stared after her a couple of seconds more before going over to the register, the line having thinned. He grabbed a paper on his way, noting the date. _Huh. January 24th_. The front page of the local paper spoke of a neighborly feud leading to grave results and an arrest. He didn't have the time to read it through before it was his turn at the register.

He waited outside the store a few minutes more, hoping to get a chance to have a few more words with Joy's mother. He bought himself a cup of coffee from the cart at the side of the store and started reading the paper. Two neighboring farmers were arrested the previous night for disturbing the peace and causing damages. One of the farmers apparently blamed the other for mutilating his cattle. _Hmm_…

Dean reached in his pocket and took out his cell phone, quickly calling Sam. He got Sam's voice mail instead, so he hung up. There was still plenty of time, anyway. Besides, did he really want Sammy anywhere near that Demon again? _No. No question about it_. He couldn't stand the thought of It hurting Sammy again. Or worse; of It possessing Sammy. Of hearing Sam saying all those things out loud… Dean knew he wouldn't survive that. He wasn't sure he wanted to. A part of him wanted to run away as far from his life as he possibly could. Another part told him he couldn't.

* * *

Sam wasn't in the motel room when Dean got back. He tried Sam's cell again, but with the same result. Sam did leave a note though. He went over to Lynn's, to watch over her. Dean smirked. _Right, kid, like I really believe all you'd be doing is watch_. He put the groceries away, not feeling too hungry anymore, and smiled again at the note. _Atta_ _boy, Sammy_. 

But soon it was growing dark, and Sam still hadn't called or answered his cell, and Dean's stomach was wounding in knots. He paced around the small room, casting nervous glances at his watch. He couldn't wait any longer.

Sitting on his bed, he picked up the motel's phone, calling information. He gave them the woman's name, asking for her address. He was stupid enough to let Sam have the car, so that means he'll have to walk in the cold. _Just great_. _Happy birthday, Dean_. He made sure to turn his cell phone off before he left the motel room. Anger will keep him warm. A phone call at the wrong moment could get him killed. Worse, it could get someone else killed. _He could buy some marshmallows and some candles on the way_, he thought to himself, _after all, there was going to be this big fire tonight_…

TBC

A/N: Yeah, sorry about that cliffie... (not really ;) ) I was having a hard time working on this chapeter. I really miss my own computer. 17 days away from home with no end in sight... Anyway, hope you enjoyed this little chapter. Let a girl know what you think, 'k?


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Dean leaned against one of the large trees across from the Alberts home, watching it warily. He drew his jacket tighter against himself, pulling the collar up against the cold wind, but he was still shivering, his teeth clattering. _Happy freakin' birthday. You're gonna get pneumonia for your birthday this year, Dean, hope you like it_, he thought bitterly to himself, blowing on his hands to try to keep warm. He pressed the little button on his watch to make it light up so that he could read the time. He cursed silently, and waited.

* * *

"Okay, so… what movie would you like to see?" Sam asked, pulling Lynn into his arms as they both sat on her comfortable sofa. Sam could swear that sofa was ten times more comfortable than his motel bed. 

"Mmm, I don't mind. Not like we're going to be watching it…" she muttered, smirking at him. Sam laughed, opening the paper and scanning it until he got to the list of movies playing.

"You know, we could always just stay here, pretend to watch TV. It's warmer anyway." He noted.

"But I like the popcorn." Lynn protested. "And that's yesterday's paper." She noted.

"What?" Sam checked the date. "No, it's not." Lynn straightened.

"Yes, it is. Today's the twenty forth." She said, planting little kisses on his neck.

"Oh." Sam, said, tossing the paper to the floor. "You got today's paper?" he forced himself to ask, though at the moment he really didn't give a damn. Lynn grumbled something incoherent and straddled him, kissing him.

"Doesn't matter," she breathed, "we're gonna be late anyway…"

"Mmm 'k." was the most Sam could bring himself to say. "No, wait, what?" he jumped all of a sudden, pushing the surprised Lynn away.

"Okay, we could make out in the movie if you want," she said, a little confused, "I just thought we could get a little head start…" she said, leaning over him again, but Sam pushed her back again.

"The twenty forth? Today's the twenty forth?" he demanded. Lynn shrugged.

"Yeah. Why?" she asked.

"Dammit!" Sam cursed, pushing himself to his feet with some effort. _Damn this sofa was comfortable_. Lynn looked quizzically at him.

"Sam? What is it? What's wrong?" she asked.

"It's my brother's birthday! I can't believe I forgot!" Sam quickly looked at the time. Ten to seven. _Dammit!_ He didn't even buy Dean anything. They didn't really celebrate birthdays, but the boys always used to do something for each other, even if it was just a lop-sided candle on a vending machine muffin.

And he wanted to do something special this year, he had planned it. He wanted them all to be together, the three of them, to prove to Dean how much they really loved and needed him. But he forgot, and now his father was off somewhere, and he didn't even get Dean anything. He hasn't even spoken to his brother since this morning. Sam cursed under his breath, reaching for his coat.

"Sam…" Lynn got off the sofa, nearing him slowly. "Call him or something. You don't have to go." She said, running her hand up his arm, and pulled him closer. Sam shook his head, looking at her as if she'd suggested he started wearing a pink bikini to work.

"No, I have to go!" he said, a little harsher than he intended. She pulled away, and Sam cursed himself at the hurt expression on her face. He really liked her, he didn't want to mess it up just because he was messing things up with his brother. He shook his head again. He wasn't _just_ messing things up with his brother. Dean wasn't over the things the Demon had said. Sam knew it. Hell, their father knew it. That's why he took Dean's new attitude towards him, and his insubordination, with never before seen patience. "Look, I just… It's a really important birthday, and I shouldn't have forgotten, okay?" he said in a way of apologizing to Lynn. Lynn gave him a small smile.

"What, is it like a round number or something?" she asked, trying to sound supportive.

"No, it's just… I don't know," Sam stuttered, "Things have been sort of weird with us lately, and I just wanted… I don't know," Sam ran his hands through his hair, "I just wanted him to have this really great birthday, you know?" Lynn kissed him.

"You're a great brother, you know that?" she asked, hugging him. "So, what'd you get him?" _Dammit!_ Seeing the look on Sam's face made Lynn grin. "You forgot that, too, didn't you?" she asked. Sam looked at the time again and cursed.

"I really have to get to the store before it closes…" Sam muttered, "Would you take a rain check on that movie?" he asked.

"Sweetie, it wasn't about the movie," she said, reaching for her own coat, "It's about spending every second with you." she added, kissing him. "Why won't I come along, help you pick up a present?" she offered. Sam smiled. He _really_ liked her.

"That'd be great." He admitted. She smiled at him.

"Okay then, let me just change, I think I need something heavier to wear. It's really cold out there tonight." She said, ducking into the bedroom.

Closing the door behind her and making sure Sam wasn't too close, she opened her purse and took out her cell phone. Getting as far from the door as the room allowed, she waited until her call was answered.

"It's me," Lynn said. "There's been a change of plans." She added in a small voice so as not to be overheard. There was a small pause, and then she said, "Oh, don't worry. I'll keep him busy. He won't get in the way, I promise. Tell Father I have Sam Winchester just where he wants him. He doesn't suspect a thing." She grinned, "Neither of them do." And with that she hung up the phone and quickly changed her shirt.

* * *

Dean hopped from one foot to the other, trying to keep warm. He took a coffee break an hour ago. It kept him warm for a while, but now he was freezing again. His heart pounded in his chest as he rushed down the street just as they were about to close the store, and ordered a cup of coffee to go, praying he won't see any flames while he was too far to do anything about it. He paid for the coffee and rushed back to his post by the trees. He whispered his thanks to whoever was listening and finished the hot drink in two large gulps. 

But that was an hour ago, and the memory of that warmth was slipping away all too quickly. He was growing tired. Dean mentally shook himself. He couldn't afford to get tired, he couldn't afford to give less than a hundred and ten percent on his job. People's lives depended on him. He needed something to help him concentrate on the job. Maybe he should call Sam, tell him to get his ass over there. That way he'll have the car with its very nice heater, and he'll have backup. Dean absently reached his hand and touched the gun that was tucked in the back of his jeans. He really needed something to force him to keep his mind on the job.

Dean took his cell phone out and turned it on. He looked at the time – it was just after eleven thirty. There was a tiny beeping sound to tell him there was a message. His phone lit up, and the words 1 MISSED CALL appeared. Dean licked his dry lips, biting his lower one, and pressed the button to see the caller's number. He didn't recognize it. It wasn't Sam's number, and it wasn't his dad's. _That's just freaking great. Half an hour left for his freaking birthday, and so far, no one seemed to care_.

_'You fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is, they don't need you. Not like you need them.'_ Those words kept swirling around in Dean's mind, in his father's voice, in Sam's voice, and sometimes even in his mother's voice. Dean turned his phone off angrily, his eyes locking on the house again, his fists clenching. This Demon was going down.

* * *

Sam looked at the time. It was nine already, and still he hasn't gotten Dean anything. 

"Oh, Sam, look!" Lynn said excitedly, pulling his arm and making him go after her. "This is perfect! You should get him this!" she said excitedly. Sam shook his head, smiling.

"I'm not gonna buy my brother a sweater." He said.

"Why not?" Lynn asked, "It's a really nice sweater." She said. "I'd bet you'd look hot in that sweater…" she teased him and Sam smiled, feeling his cheeks reddening.

"Yeah, well, I'm still not going to get my brother a sweater." He said.

"But…"

"Guys don't buy their brothers clothes for their birthdays, okay?" Sam stopped her quickly. She pouted and he laughed. She looked so cute when she did that.

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to go in and try it on, would it?" she asked, "Come on, you'll look so good in it…" she grinned leaning against him and looking up at him teasingly. Sam laughed again.

"Yeah, I know." He said, "But seriously, it's getting really late, I have to get something before the stores close."

"You think we can get some coffee first?" Lynn asked, taking Sam's hand as they walked away from the store. "I'm really cold. And I really need to use the little lady's room…"

Sam looked nervously at the time. A quarter to ten. In fifteen minutes, the stores will be closed, and he still hasn't bought anything for Dean. _Damn, this was so hard. Why was it so difficult to get his brother a damn birthday gift?_

"Sam, this is getting ridicules." Lynn said exasperatedly. "It's late, and I'm cold. I wanna go home."

"No. We can't, I didn't get him anything!" Sam cried. "Look, there's just fifteen minutes, could you… Just please, fifteen minutes, Lynn?" he asked. She looked at him, seeing the pleading look in his eyes, almost desperate, and sighed.

"You really want to get him something he'll like, don't you? It's that important to you?" she asked.

"Yes!" Sam almost yelled. How could he explain it to her? How could he explain what Dean meant to him, to someone who didn't know about his past? How could he explain the complete and utter terror he had felt all the time Dean was in the ICU, fighting for his life, knowing there was a very good chance this would be a battle his brother couldn't win? How could he explain the way Dean has changed since then, or how much he wanted things to be the way they used to be again?

Lynn sighed again, giving him a little nod. "Alright." She said. "Then tell me this; what does your brother love the most?" she asked.

"His car." Sam said automatically.

"Then get him something for the car." Lynn said with a slight shrug.

"I can't. It was totaled almost seven months ago." Sam said, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. Dean loved that car. The way the glint was gone from his eyes when they told him what had happened to the car… God, he hated that. He hated that change in his brother. He wanted the old Dean back. The one that laughed and made stupid jokes and pranks and wasn't so serious and quiet all the time, the one that used to wake him up with the sound of his awful and loud music… _Oh, wait a minute_… "You know what? I think you just gave me an idea…"

* * *

Dean looked at the time again, wandering how long he would have to wait. Wondering if there was even a reason he was waiting here in the first place. Yes, the weather was unusually cold, but it happens. It wasn't just here that's too cold, it happened in other states, too. And yes, there were some cattle mutilated, but the police attributed it to a neighborly feud. It could happen, people were crazy. And besides, Sam hasn't had a vision or anything. Well, unless you count the nightmare he had about that girl he was seeing. But then, Sam's visions weren't really all that reliable lately. 

Dean was starting to wonder if he should just go back to the motel, take a good long shower, go to sleep and forget this day ever happened. His weary body seemed to relish the thought, craved it, urging him to act on it. But his gut refused.

And then the street lights began to flicker. The wind grew stronger. He quickly pulled out the EMF meter, turning it on. Yep. It was time. He tucked the EMF back in his pocket and ran across the street as quickly as his stiff legs carried him.

TBC

A/N: This one is a little short, sorry. I guess you'll have to review to know what's gonna happen now, won't you? hint hint Chapter 9 is almost finished, and it's my favorite so far. Remember, the more reviews, the shorter the wait... ;)

A/A/N: By the way, I really hope that part about Metallicar being totalled it completely AU. Long live Metallicar!


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: This chapter has some spoilers from 'Salvation'. Consider yourself warned.

**Disclaimer**: Nope. Didn't own 'em when I wrote chapter one, and I still don't own 'em.

Chapter Nine

Sam parked the car not far from their motel room and killed the engine. Okay, so he messed up. Screwed up, big time. But he was definitely going to make it up to Dean. Sam reached over to the passenger seat and took the small bag lying on it. It was too late to go to dinner, well, too late for anything other than the grimy diner anyway, and that didn't really scream 'happy birthday'. No, Sam wanted something a little more special. Lynn gave him the name of a good restaurant; he'll take Dean there for lunch tomorrow. For now, he had this little token to offer his brother. _God, he hoped Dean would like it_.

Getting out of the car, Sam walked over to their motel room. It was unusually dark inside. Sam looked at the time. Ten thirty. _Dean couldn't have gone to bed this early, could he? He's been really tired lately, but surely, he won't go to bed _this_ early_, Sam thought as he took out the key and opened the door. He turned on the lights as he walked in the room. The empty room. Sam walked over to the bathroom, just to make sure. Dean wasn't there. _Probably went to the bar_, Sam assumed, _Dean was one to get bored easily after all. He wouldn't want to just stay here and watch TV on his birthday_. Sam hesitated whether or not to drive over to the bar and look for his brother. It was too early for Dean to be drunk enough that he'd get himself into trouble. _Better make sure, though_, Sam thought and took out his cell phone, only now noticing that it was turned off. _That's funny, I don't remember turning it off_, he thought, and turned it on.

The words 7 MISSED CALLS appeared on the screen; six of those were from Dean, one from their dad. Sam's heart quickened its pace. He tried calling Dean when his cell suddenly died. _Oh, great, the battery's empty. No wonder it was off_, Sam thought, cursing under his breath. He had to spend almost ten minutes searching for the charger until he finally found it and started recharging the battery. He knew it would take a while for the battery to recharge. Might as well take a shower in the meantime. At least, with the phone recharging, he'll be able to hear a call coming in.

By eleven Sam was getting pretty nervous. Dean wasn't back yet. There was no note, and he'd left no messages on his voicemail. Biting his thumbnail, Sam had made his decision. Grabbing his coat and the car keys, he headed over to the bar to make sure Dean wasn't getting into any trouble.

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Dean pounded on the door to the Alberts' house as hard as he could, but it still took a few minutes for a man to come to the door. The man seemed a little confused, and more than a little irritated. He was wearing a robe over a sweatshirt and some sweatpants, his feet clad in fuzzy slippers and his hair was sticking out in every direction. He also had a rather nasty looking baseball bat in his hand.

"What?" the man growled at him, still half asleep, but Dean didn't bother answering. Answers took time, and right now, there wasn't any. So he pushed the man aside roughly and got in the house, yelling at the guy to get the hell out of the house. He said something about a gas leak, but was already climbing the stairs to the second floor, so he wasn't so sure if the man had heard him, or if he was even listening. It didn't matter anyway. He had to get to the nursery, and he had to get there now.

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Sam made yet another round around the bar, but Dean was nowhere to be found. Finally, he went over to the bartender, asking her if she'd seen Dean today. His stomach flopped when she told him she hasn't. Cursing under his breath, Sam thanked her and hurried out of the bar, heading for the car. He pulled out his cell and dialed Dean's number for the sixth time.

Finally, for the first time, the battery allowed him to actually complete the call. He got to Dean's voicemail on the first dial tone, and cursed, shutting the phone off. He got back in the car and sped out of the driveway, gravel sputtering from under the tires. Sam's heart was pounding as he forced himself to relax and not jump to any conclusions. _Maybe he just went out for a quick walk_, Sam thought, _maybe he's already back at the motel_, he tried to convince himself as he flipped his phone open again and tried calling Dean again, but got straight to his voicemail once again. Sam cursed loudly. _Well, maybe he just hooked up with someone. This was Dean, after all_, Sam thought, hoped, as he sped on.

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The mother was already pinned up against the wall, but she was still alive when Dean reached the nursery. She screamed at him for help. He didn't spare her a second look as he run over to the crib and swept the crying baby into his arms. His heart raced, his throat was dry, but there was no way he was going to let this Demon win. No way. This family will not know what it's like to have their lives ripped away from them, not if he could help it.

Dean turned and was about to rush out with the baby when the crib burst up in flame, the nearby drapes quickly catching fire as well. The woman screamed in panic, still pinned to the wall. Dean hesitated. If he ran out with the baby, there might not be enough time to get to the mother. On the other hand, if he wasted the time trying to get the mother free, none of them may get out of here unscathed. Time was pressing. He had to make a decision.

And then it was made for him.

The mother dropped to the ground. Even as the fire around the room intensified, Dean could still feel the drop in temperature as the hair on the back of his neck prickled and the lights started to flicker. He held the baby tighter to his chest, screaming at the mother to run. She stared at him, shaking her head, and started to argue.

"I'll get her out, I promise, just get out of here or we'll all die!" Dean screamed at her. She hesitated, her eyes going to the figure of the man with yellow eyes that smirked at her. "Get the hell out, what are you waiting for? I'll get your baby to safety, I swear!" Dean shouted again. This time, with a slight nod, she complied, and ran out of the room. Dean had every intention to follow her, but as soon as the woman was out of the room, the door slammed shut and a wave of heat hit his face. He turned, shielding the baby with his own body as the door burst in flame. The entire room was engulfed in fire. Smoke was rising, dark and thick, and already Dean could feel the tightening of his chest and the bitter taste of adrenaline in the back of his mouth.

"You don't really think you're getting out of here, Dean, do you?"

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Sam hit the brakes hard, the seatbelt tugging him painfully at the chest and shoulder, but he didn't care. He turned off the engine, rushing out of the car and almost forgetting to turn the lights off. The twisting in his stomach, which started ever since he got back from Lynn's to find an empty motel room, just got worse as Sam looked at the motel room window and realized the room was dark. Dean wasn't there. He cried out in exasperation, forcing himself to remain calm, and ran over to the room.

He dropped the keys twice before he managed to get the door open, and made sure he checked every inch of the room before letting out another cry.

"Damn it, Dean, where the hell are you?" he screamed, trying his brother's cell for the ninth time, with the same result. This time, he left a rather colorful message on Dean's voicemail.

Okay, like it or not, Sam was panicking.

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Dean's eye darted around the room as he pressed the baby closer to his own body, trying to shield her from the intense heat. He slowly stepped back from the Demon, but the room was small, and there was no place to hide, especially with the roaring flames all around, painting everything red and yellow.

"Stay back!" Dean warned the Demon as his heart raced a mile a minute. He fought to remain calm, reminding himself over and over that this time, the Demon wasn't using his father's body. But his eyes still played tricks on him, making him see his father every now and then, sneering at him with those sick, yellow eyes.

"This child is mine!" the Demon cried.

"Oh, really?" Dean inched his way towards the burning door, "Got the paternity test to back that up?" It didn't work, the fire was just too damn hot. Dean couldn't get closer to the door. His eyes quickly searched the room for a better way out, locking on the window. The drapes were on fire, but it didn't matter anyway. He was on the second floor. He might survive the jump unscathed, but not with a baby in his arms. He couldn't take the chance. Thick smoke began to rise, making Dean's eyes water and burn, making breathing so difficult for him. He wrapped his jacket around the baby, trying to shield her as best he could. Sweat trickled down his face and back.

"So, where is that brother of yours, Dean? Where is Psychic Sammy? I don't see him here trying to help you." the Demon commented with a grin.

"Don't you talk about my brother! Don't you dare talk about him!" Dean snapped at the Demon, whose grin widened.

"He's not here, is he?" the Demon closed its eyes, as if searching for something. "No, he's not." It opened its eyes again, smirking, and for a split second, Dean saw his dad, and not the Demon. "Had better things to do, didn't he?"

"Shut up!" Dean didn't have the time for that. He couldn't afford to listen. He had to fight to find a way out. He started coughing on the smoke, noticing that the baby was coughing, too, though not as badly as he was.

"They still don't need you, do they?" the Demon went on, "Why bother, Dean? You know, the thing about martyrs, they die. And people forget about them."

"Oh, screw you!" Dean snapped, blinking the tears away and keeping his stinging eyes on the Demon. Time and air were running out. "No, seriously, try it. It might make you nicer, you know? Find some nice demon lady, get her all nice and drunk. Might get that chip off of your shoulder…"

"Funny, Dean. But then again, you always were a joke, weren't you?" the Demon deadpanned, "The little comic relief, making fun of the situation just to get someone to notice you were there…"

"Hey, at least I'm not the pyromaniac child molester…" Dean coughed, his lungs craving fresh air. He found a small trash bin and threw it as hard as he could against the window, breaking it. Cool air started sipping into the room as the smoke slowly started to leave. It was a start, but Dean knew time was running out. He made another lunge at the door, or what was left of it, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. But the Demon got in his way.

"You don't really believe you're getting out of here, do you?" the Demon asked, and the serious, nonchalant tone of his voice made the blood in Dean's veins freeze. He swallowed, suffocating, and coughed, trying again to better protect the baby against the smoke and flame. "The fire's too hot, Dean," the Demon went on matter-of-factly, "you'll never make it."

"Watch me!" Dean shouted.

"What about the baby?" the Demon asked. There was no patronizing, no anger to his voice. It was casual, concerned almost. And that scared the hell out of Dean. "You'd rather kill her than give her to me?" the Demon asked, "I can get her out of here safely, I can give her a life. You'll only get her killed." The Demon went on, and Dean swallowed hard, the pain in his chest intensifying. "Can you really do that?" the Demon asked seriously, "Are you really going to kill this child just so I won't win? Are you really that desperate to have some victory over me?" it demanded. "Even if I don't get her, there will be others, Dean. There will always be others. You cannot stop me."

"I'll get her out!" Dean shouted with a confidence he didn't really feel. The Demon looked at him. There was almost pity in his look, and Dean clenched his jaw in anger.

"You'll die." The Demon said simply, "You'll both die." Dean coughed again, his lungs screaming for air, his head spinning, his chest constricting, his eyes burning from the smoke. But he wasn't going to let the Demon win. He'll get this baby back to her mother, even if it kills him. He didn't care anymore.

"The only one dying tonight is you!" Dean shouted, his hand reaching to the back of his jeans, pulling out the gun he had hidden there. The colt. He clenched his jaw, his arm steady as he aimed it at the Demon and fired once. The Demon disappeared, evaporating, the bullet going straight through where it had been just a second ago. But it didn't matter. It bought Dean the time he needed. He ran to the burning door, kicking it open as he tried his best to shield both himself and the baby, and ran out of the house as fast as he could.

He almost couldn't believe it worked. He almost couldn't believe the Demon fell for that, fell for the fake gun. He had prayed that it would work, that the Demon would disappear just as it did back in Salvation. He had counted on it, it was his only hope. And it worked. He didn't care that the Demon got away, he didn't care about much anymore. He got the baby out, he saved that family. The rest he'll deal with later.

The baby's mother cried in panic when he got out of the house, the father rushing over to him and grabbing the baby from him. Dean's head was spinning. He coughed, trying desperately to bring oxygen to his deprived lungs. His chest was on fire. He couldn't breathe. Glancing up, he could barely make out the figure staring down at him through the broken window in the burning nursery. And the pain in his chest intensified. Dean gasped, falling to his knees, his hand grasping his chest as he tried desperately to draw breath. He was barely aware of someone holding him by the shoulders, someone talking to him, asking if he were all right, before he passed out, oblivious to the sounds of the approaching sirens.

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Sam sat on one of the beds, racking his fingers through his hair and forcing himself to relax. It wasn't working. Every passing minute brought to mind another worst-case-scenario. _Think, Sam, you have to think! Just relax, and think, dammit! Dean wouldn't just leave, he wouldn't just disappear_. He checked his cell phone again, to make sure he didn't miss any messages from Dean the last ten times he'd checked. He hadn't. _Okay, now what? Dean, damn it, where are you?_

Sam got up from the bed and started pacing the room, biting his nails. He had already asked the desk clerk if she had seen Dean leaving, but the clerk told him his brother hasn't been to the office since her shift started, and that she wasn't paid enough to keep watch over the rooms. She was damn lucky there were other people around or Sam would have throttled her right then and there.

Nearing the end of his rope, Sam tried Dean's cell again, leaving another colorful message on his brother's voicemail. He tossed the phone angrily at the bed, and then cursed when it slipped off and fell. For a moment, Sam considered just leaving it on the floor, but he needed to keep recharging the thing. Grunting angrily, he stomped over to the side of the bed, picking the offending phone off the floor. It was then that he noticed the tiny ripping of the top page on the motel's complementary note pad lying next to the phone. Sam picked it up, taking a closer look. The top page had been ripped off, and there were some markings on the second page. Sam pulled the drawer on the nightstand so hard he unintentionally yanked it out altogether. Cursing loudly, he searched the floor. There, rolled under one of the beds, was a tiny pencil. _Finally, something was going his way_, Sam thought to himself. He ran the pencil back and forth over the page until he could read the after-print of the message written on the top page. It was an address, and it looked like Dean's handwriting. Sam almost cried out in joy. That is, until he realized he had no idea where that address was leading him to. Unlike his brother, _he_ didn't know the map of the entire freaking country by heart. Reaching for his phone, he called Lynn, asking her for directions.

Sam slipped, nearly nose-diving straight into the pavement in his hurry to get to the car. He cursed, straightening himself, and got in the car. Slamming the keys into the ignition, he stepped hard on the gas pedal, leaving a trail of dust and gravel behind him.

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Dean woke up in the emergency room. He had an oxygen mask on his face. His bruised ribs bothered him, but not nearly as much as his raw throat or the pain in his chest. He started coughing, grimacing at the pain in his throat, his hand reaching for his heart. He couldn't breathe.

A second later, two lovely nurses came rushing to his side, not that he'd noticed, being too busy suffocating and all. One of them pushed him gently down back on the bed while the other fiddled with something behind him, apparently raising the bed to a sitting position.

"Here, is that better?" the first nurse asked, but Dean just shook his head, pressing his hand harder against his chest, gasping. The nurses exchanged a look. One of them slipped a blood pressure sleeve on his arm to test his blood pressure.

"Sir, can you tell me your name?" she asked.

"Dean." Dean gasped weakly. The nurse read his blood pressure, telling the other to go get one of the doctors. The other nurse quickly disappeared down the hall.

"Well, Dean, don't you worry. We're gonna take extra good care of you." the remaining nurse promised, "It's not every day we get to help a real-life hero." She smiled at him. "Now, you really need to relax, all right? Just take deep breaths." She told him in a kind, calm voice.

"My chest…" Dean breathed, closing his eyes. The nurse narrowed hers.

"You have chest pains?" she asked, and Dean nodded. He meant to ask how the baby was doing. She had been coughing a lot, he hoped she was alright, but right now, all he could think of was the pressure in his chest. The doctor arrived a second later, attacking Dean with a barrage of questions.

Dean answered as best he could, telling the doctor about his heart problem, too hurt and tired to deny his pain and growing panic. An IV was stuck in his arm and he was given something nasty to drink while they connected all sorts of wires to his chest, monitoring him. He kept coughing, and a nurse brought him some water. Finally, he managed to ask about baby Joy.

"She took some smoke, but not nearly as much as you did." the nurse smiled at him, "She's going to be just fine." Dean gave a weak smile, closing his eyes, too tired to keep them open. "Is there someone I can call? Family perhaps?" the nurse offered. Dean shook his head slightly, letting sleep and exhaustion claim him.

He woke up twenty minutes later, the pressure in his chest gone for the most part. The IV was still attached to his arm. He forced himself up from the bed, asking for the AMA papers. Half an hour later, Dean was slouching in a cab on his way back to the motel.

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Sam could hear the sirens long before he could see anything. He smelled the smoke as he got nearer, and his heart nearly leaped out of his throat. He parked the car a little farther down the block, the fire engines blocking the way. There was quite the crowd around. Sam got out of the car. His legs felt like rubber, his heart pounded in his chest, as if trying to break free.

"What happened?" he asked one of the many people in the crowd.

"Fire." The man said, as if it wasn't painfully obvious. Sam watched as an ambulance drove away, lights flashing, siren wailing. It was so cold he could see the vapor of his breath.

"Someone got hurt?" Sam asked, feeling the bile rising in his throat.

"Yeah, seems so." The man answered him. "Looks like there's still someone in the house, though." the man added, and Sam quickly turned to look at the house, squinting, forcing his eyes to see through the blaze and smoke, but he couldn't see anything. His hand reached to his coat pocket, fondling his cell phone. He needed Dean right now, he needed his brother to tell him this wasn't the Demon, that they weren't too late yet again. He needed Dean to tell him that everything was going to be okay, that they would catch that thing and make it pay. Most of all, he needed Dean to just be there and be okay.

Sam took a few steps back from the crowd, pulling his cell out of his pocket and dialing Dean's number for the thousandth time. _Please, Dean, just be okay… Just pick up the stupid phone and yell at me and tell me what a horrible brother I am for forgetting your birthday, just please, pick up…_ But Dean didn't. Sam had his suspicion as to why. He needed to make sure, though, and so he walked back to the crowd.

"Poor family," he said, standing next to a woman who seemed quite shocked.

"You said it," she whispered, her hands on her cheeks as she watched someone else's life go up in flame. "You think that baby's gonna live?" she asked. Sam's stomach lurched.

"The baby?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Yeah," the woman said, "I think she wasn't breathing when they got her out. I think that's what the ambulance was for. And they say someone's still inside… Dear lord, I hope it's not Truman. He's such a nice neighbor…" but Sam wasn't listening to her anymore.

The house was on fire, there was a baby involved, his brother was missing, and those damn visions kept him in this town. Sam barely made it to the side of the road before he tossed up everything he had eaten that day, and then continued to dry heave until he almost passed out.

Sam smiled, thanking the EMT for the water. Someone had found him retching his guts out and told everyone he was inside the house and that something was wrong with him. Sam protested, but the EMT still took him to the remaining ambulance, giving him something to drink. He told them again that he was never in the house. The EMT smiled.

"I know," she told him, and his brow creased. "No offence, but you don't really smell like smoke." She laughed at his reaction. "Feeling better now?" Sam smiled at her.

"Yeah, much better." He lied, "I think it was the smell." He said. She shrugged.

"No problem." She said. "You can stay here, lay down until you feel better." She offered. Sam smiled at her.

"Thanks." He said, and was about to say he was ready to leave when he remembered something. "Say, I heard the baby was hurt in the fire. You know anything about that?" Sam asked. The EMT didn't look at him, she was staring at the firemen working on the house.

"Yes, I heard it on the radio. She was a little cyanotic when the medics got to her, but she's going to be just fine. She was looking better by the time they took her and that guy to the hospital." She said offhandedly, and Sam suddenly felt like throwing up again.

"The other guy?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes. The father, I think. He didn't look so good. Took a lot of smoke before they got him out."

"Well, thanks." Sam said, and the EMT turned to look at him. "I feel better now." Sam lied, stepping out of the ambulance. He started to walk away, and then turned and asked, as casually as he could, "Oh, hey, what hospital did they go to?"

TBC

A/A/N: Just a little reminder, reviews are a really really nice thing. And if I get to 140, you're all getting a _really_ long chapter next time... ;)


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Dean tried to pay the cab driver but he refused to take his money. Dean shrugged. He was never one to give up a free ride if he could get it. He thanked the driver and got out of the cab. His eyes searched the parking lot for their car. It wasn't there. _Damn, he could really use his pills right about now_.

Dean made his way to their motel room, unlocking it and getting inside. He switched on the light, raising a brow at the mess, but shrugging it off. He was too weary and too tired to care. He took his jacket off, tossing in on the floor with a grimace. He reeked of smoke and sweat. He started towards the bathroom, kicking his shoes off on his way, and tossing his shirt on the floor. His jeans found their way to the bathroom floor before he reached and turned the hot water on all the way. He leaned against the cold wall for a couple of seconds, exhausted, before he stripped and got in the shower.

The hot water really helped sooth the pressure in his chest, but not enough. He stared down at the large scars across his chest and bit his lip. He wasn't going to think about it. He wasn't. He saved that baby, that's all that mattered. _God, he was tired_. He really wanted it to be over. He wanted it all to be over. He leaned his hands against the wall, letting the water wash over his face and hair, scrubbing the smell of smoke out as best he could.

Dean wrapped a towel around his waist as he got out of the shower. He was going to have to do the laundry tomorrow. He didn't it like when his favorite jeans smelled of smoke.

Dean fell on his bed, closing his eyes. _Damn, he wanted to sleep_. But his chest still bothered him. With a loud groan, he pushed himself up and walked over to his duffle. He got dressed slowly and laid his jacket on one of the chairs, his cell slipping from the pocket as he did. Dean sighed and picked it up, turning it on. He had eighteen missed calls. _Huh_. Dean tossed the cell over at the bed and searched around his duffle for his painkillers. He finally found the bottle and took one large pill out. Walking over to the bathroom, he filled a glass with tap water. He couldn't dry swallow that giant thing even if he wanted to.

Dean sighed again as he fell back against the bed one more time. He wanted nothing more than to just close his eyes and fall asleep. Instead, he picked up his cell, looking at the missed calls list. Eighteen calls, all from Sam. There were even five voice messages, but he didn't feel like listening to those. He closed his tired, itching eyes and pressed the speed dial for Sam's number.

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Sam sat in the ER waiting room, holding his head in both his hands. He was trying his best not to cry, and failing miserably. No one would talk to him, no one seemed willing to give him any information on either the baby or the man that came with her. _Oh, yes, he found out it was a baby girl. How great was that?_ But there was still no sign of Dean.

He jumped, startled, when his cell phone started ringing. He almost screamed in relief at the sight of his brother's ID flashing on the screen, and quickly answered the call.

"Dean? Where the hell are you, man? I've been looking everywhere for you!" Sam said in a shaking voice, unable to hide the accusation in his voice.

"I'm at the motel." Dean said, stifling a yawn. Sam jumped to his feet.

"Dean, listen, lines of salt, behind the door and the windows, quick, okay? I'm on my way to the motel." Sam said quickly, already heading for the hospital exit.

"What? Sam, relax okay? What are you talking about?" Dean asked, sounding a little more confused than usual.

"Dean, listen, the Demon – it was here, man." Sam said quickly, getting out of the hospital and practically running for the car.

"What? Where? Sam, where are you? Is it after you?" Dean asked quickly.

"No, no, Dean, I'm fine." Sam quickly reassured the older hunter, "It's just, there was a fire tonight, something to do with a baby. I think the Demon was there." He went on.

"Oh." Dean said after a moment. "Well, I knew that." Sam frowned.

"How the hell would you know that?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm psychic now, too." Was Dean's sarcastic reply, and then, just as Sam was about to snap at him, he went on; "I heard about the fire. I went over there earlier. Nice house. Used to be, at least."

"Oh. Well, what were you doing there, anyway?" Sam asked, holding the phone with his cheek pressed to his shoulder as he started the car.

"I had a date across the street." Dean said. "Listen, Sam, where are you?"

"I'm on my way, I should be at the motel in twenty minutes." Sam answered. He could hear Dean yawning.

"Yeah, okay," he said, "Listen, I'm wasted. I'm going to bed. Oh, and Sam, you've got a gun on you right? 'Cause there're a couple of pillows here, man, and I think they look pissed." And at that, Sam hung the phone up.

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It only took Sam fifteen minutes to get from the hospital to the motel. He passed the Alberts house on his way there and scowled when he saw the fire engines were still there, still fighting the flames, though it was mostly just smoke now. The ambulance was gone, and Sam wondered if it was because they got whoever was inside out, or if it was too late, or if there even was someone else inside the house.

By the time Sam pulled the car over and took the keys out of the ignition, he could feel the tug of sleep. It has been a long day, one he didn't wish to repeat. And it wasn't over yet. It won't be over until he got in that room and made sure Dean was there and that he was okay. He'd have to wait with the apologies and birthday plans for tomorrow.

He stepped in something crunchy when he walked into the room and turned the lights on. A salt ring. Good. Sam looked around the room. Dean made sure to draw large salt lines behind the doors and windows. He even drew a circle of salt around Sam's bed. Sam smiled at that. He breathed a sigh of relief at the shape of his sleeping brother, covered in his blankets. There was a shotgun leaning against the nightstand, and Sam noticed the drawer had been put back in place, though the mess was still there on the floor.

Sam took his coat off, and made sure the door was locked. He stifled a yawn and walked over to his bed, on which his sweats were tossed earlier that morning. An unintentional groan escaped his lips as he pulled his jeans off and changed his clothes. And then he straightened. Something was wrong. Something didn't feel right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but the feeling that something was wrong only intensified. Sam reached over and grabbed the shotgun, getting to his feet. He was growing more and more nervous, but he couldn't find the reason for it. _He should wake Dean_ _up_, he thought, _whatever this threat might be, it was better if… Dean!_ His brother was asleep! He had entered the room, walked around, took the shotgun, and in all this time, Dean had barely stirred in his sleep! Cold fear grabbed Sam. _What if something was wrong with him?_

Sam lowered the shotgun, crouching next to his brother's bed. He stared at the older hunter for a couple of minutes, relieved to see the rise and fall of his chest. But Dean was covered all the way to his neck with his covers, save for one arm that was tangled in the blankets. If his brother was injured, he couldn't tell. Not like that. Sam reached over and shook Dean's shoulder. Dean grunted in his sleep and turned onto his side, still sleeping. That was strange, usually, that move would result with Sam sprawled on the floor with Dean's hands around his neck before Sam would have had the chance to retrieve his hand. Sam frowned, shaking Dean again.

"Mmm go away." Dean muttered in his sleep, pulling his covers tighter around him.

"Dean," Sam called out softly, shaking him again.

"Not here right now. Leave a message, would you?" Dean mumbled, showing no sign of waking up. Sam smiled and tried yet again, but the most he got was Dean turning from one side to the other. And then something else occurred to him. Smoke. There was a faint smell of smoke in the room. Sam sucked in his breath, his eyes widening. _He wouldn't!_

"Dean!" Sam cried.

"Whaaaat!" Dean muttered in irritation, squinting his eyes against the light and trying to focus his angry glare on his little brother. The look might have sent Sam running for cover if the glare and angry tone weren't smothered away by a huge yawn.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam asked. Dean narrowed his eyes angrily.

"Was doing much better before you woke me up. Now turn the lights off and go away." Dean said, turning his back on the younger Winchester. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Where were you all day?" Sam insisted, but only received an unintelligible mumble that resembled 'Norway'. Sam figured it was actually 'go away', but he couldn't be too sure. "Dean, why does it smell like smoke in here?" Sam insisted. Dean grunted again, pushing himself up on his elbows and glaring at Sam with bloodshot eyes.

"Would you leave me alone if I told you I took up smoking?" he muttered. Sam just stared at him. Dean let out a guttural groan, burying his face in his pillow.

"Dean,"

"Well, what can I say, Sammy. I'm getting old, I guess." Dean muttered, "Too many candles on the cake, it's really starting to become a fire hazard. Man, you missed one hell of a party. Good cake, great beer, even had this hot stripper come out of the cake and everything." He went on, and Sam felt a sudden pang of guilt. "Can I go back to sleep now, or do you have any more stupid questions?" Dean demanded. Sam bit his lip, unable to look his brother in the eye.

"Good night." He said, getting to his feet. Dean didn't answer. He just rearranged his pillow and went back to sleep.

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Sam woke with a jolt, a cry escaping his lips. He blinked, still shaken from his nightmare. It was a different nightmare, a strange one. It felt like someone somehow twisted a thousand nightmares into one and forced him to watch as it unfolded before his eyes. He had no idea if it were a vision or not. Some parts of it couldn't have been real, they were too surreal, too unrealistic. Other parts had already happened, but some parts felt like a vision to him. He swallowed hard, sitting up and drawing his knees to his chest, still shivering. One thought ripped through his mind. _Dean_. He wanted his brother. Dean was always there, by his side, to take care of the nightmare aftereffects. He always had been, ever since they were little. But he wasn't there now, and that only made Sam more anxious.

"Dean?" he called out in a shaky voice, rubbing his eyes and looking around in the dark, searching for the safety that was his older brother. _Why wasn't Dean there? Was he mad at Sam for forgetting his birthday? What if he's really angry and won't make everything better?_ The thought made Sam's heart leap all the way to his throat, where it suddenly met Sam's stomach. "Dean?" Sam cried out again, a little more urgently.

Sam looked over at the bed next to him, wondering why Dean wasn't answering him, why he wasn't coming to help him. And then he understood.

Sam forced himself to swallow, running a hand over his sweaty face, and untangled himself from his covers, getting heavily out of bed and coming to sit on his brother's bed.

Dean wasn't helping his little brother with his nightmare for a very simple reason. He was trapped in one of his own. Sweaty hairs clung to his brow as he thrashed and tossed and turned in his bed, his covers kicked down to his waist, tangled around his legs. Dean was soaked in cold sweat, his breath coming in quick, shallow, gasps.

Sam watched his older brother for a couple of minutes. It still felt strange for him to watch Dean like that, to see his brother having nightmares. He used to have them all the time for a while, right after the accident, but he always refused to talk about them, pretending they had never happened.

Dean was in pretty bad shape for a while. Things got a little better after their father had left them again. Dean stopped having nightmares after that. He hasn't had one since, Sam was sure about that. Well, pretty sure. Almost positive. Surely, he'd notice if his brother had had a nightmare, he was a light sleeper after all… Dean couldn't have hidden something like that from him, he wouldn't. _Would he?_ Sam gasped, rolling his eyes and exhaling loudly. _Of course he would! He was Dean after all, wasn't he? That stupid, cocky, arrogant, irritating, self-sacrificing jerk!_ Sam had a sudden urge to strangle his brother, or at the very least, punch him really, really hard.

TBC

A/N: A little teaser from next week's chapter...

_"Sam," Dean said eventually, turning his eyes away from his little brother and back towards the ceiling. He took a deep breath and just let it out. "If you could do it all over again, if you had the chance to go back and do things… I don't know, different. Would you?" Dean asked, his voice a little husky. Sam raised a brow, completely taken by surprise by that question. He opened his mouth to speak a couple of times, but couldn't think of anything to say. This question came from left field, giving him no warning whatsoever. Dean cleared his throat again. "I mean," he went on in a small voice, "you know, the whole leaving for college stuff." Dean added. Sam laid back on his back, staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. Where had that come from?_

Does it tease you enough to leave those nice reviews?


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Last time on 'I Wanna Know Why'…

_Dean wasn't helping his little brother with his nightmare for a very simple reason. He was trapped in one of his own. Sweaty hairs clung to his brow as he thrashed and tossed and turned in his bed, his covers kicked down to his waist, tangled around his legs. Dean was soaked in cold sweat, his breath coming in quick, shallow, gasps._

_Sam watched his older brother for a couple of minutes. It still felt strange for him to watch Dean like that, to see his brother having nightmares. He used to have them all the time for a while, right after the accident, but he always refused to talk about them, pretending they had never happened._

_Dean was in pretty bad shape for a while. Things got a little better after their father had left them again. Dean stopped having nightmares after that. He hasn't had one since, Sam was sure about that. Well, pretty sure. Almost positive. Surely, he'd notice if his brother had had a nightmare, he was a light sleeper after all… Dean couldn't have hidden something like that from him, he wouldn't. Would he? Sam took a deep breath, rolling his eyes and exhaling loudly. Of course he would! He was Dean after all, wasn't he? That stupid, arrogant, irritating, self-sacrificing jerk! Sam had a sudden urge to strangle his brother, or at the very least, punch him really, really hard._

On with the story now, shell we?

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Dean had been having nightmares all his life, even when he was awake. Because, really, the things he did, the things he faced with every day, those were the things nightmares were made of.

'_You can't bring it home with you, kiddo, you have to leave those thoughts out the door when you come back, or you'll never survive.'_ That's the advice his dad had given him when he was twelve and the nightmares became so frequent he hadn't slept through the night for an entire week. And Dean tried, he really tried to leave it all behind. It's just that sometimes, things crept up on him, attacked him in his sleep.

He forced himself not to cry, not to shout, not to show any sign that he had had a nightmare. He was a man. Even at twelve. He had to set an example for Sam. Sam had such awful nightmares, he was such a sensitive kid. So Dean decided not to have nightmares anymore, and that was that. Or at least, he made damn sure no one knew he kept having them.

The nightmares grew farther and farther apart as he grew up, but still, every once in a while, a really nasty one would sneak up on him and make him wish he hadn't fallen asleep. He accepted it; it was a hazard of the job, after all.

But ever since that night at the cabin the nightmares came far too often for Dean's liking. He had different nightmares, but they were all basically the same; Sam leaving because he hated this life and everything to do with it, including Dean. Or nightmares where both his father and his brother had left, because they didn't need him. Because they didn't want him. Because he wasn't good enough. Nightmares of countless of hunts going wrong, all ending up at the same place. All ending up at that cabin.

Sometimes, it was Sam who had been possessed by the Demon, Sam saying all those things to him, saying how stupid Dean was, how useless, how pathetic. Sam ripping him to shreds and leaving him behind to bleed to death. On one or two occasions, it had even been his mother, smiling at him with those yellow eyes as she took pleasure in his suffering.

She didn't talk to him. She said his name, but then went right past him and over to Sam. The favorite. The special one. The one that mattered. And he was left alone, discarded, and more often than not, dying without anyone noticing or caring. They were all busy rushing over to Sam. Hell, even the monsters favored Sam.

_"You fight, and you fight for this family, but the truth is, they don't need you. Not like you need them. Sam? He's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you…"_ And Dean _knew_. Deep down in his heart, he _knew_ the Demon wasn't lying. After all, why bother lying when the truth hurt so much more?

God, he just wanted it over. He wanted to put it all behind and move on. Forget, repress, and never think about any of it ever again. But how could he? How could he move on, when those nightmares kept forcing him to relive it over and over and over again? It was almost as if someone didn't want it to be over, as if someone didn't want him to get past it, to be able to move on. As if someone relished in his suffering.

_Sam._

_Dad._

_The Entire. Freaking. World._

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Dean's face creased in discomfort, his head swayed restlessly from side to side, as his hands clenched into fists. His chest heaved, sweat trickling down his brow. Sam couldn't watch it anymore. He touched Dean's arm gently, calling his brother's name. Dean's breathing quickened, the expression on his face making Sam's heart ache. Sam called out to Dean again, touching his shoulder this time, but Dean still didn't wake up. Frowning, Sam grabbed both Dean's shoulders, giving his brother a little shake.

Dean woke with a gasp, and Sam quickly grabbed his wrists as Dean, still disoriented, was about to punch him.

"Dean, it's okay, it's me." Sam said soothingly, trying to calm his brother down. Dean's eyes darted everywhere. He was hyperventilating, straggling against Sam's hold of his wrists.

"Sammy!" Dean cried out, gasping. Sam inched a little closer to his brother.

"Hey, hey, Dean, it's okay. It's me. It's okay, everything's okay, it was just a nightmare." Sam said, watching his brother to see the effect his words had on the older Winchester. For a moment, Dean still searched the room warily, before his eyes locked once again on his younger brother.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice shaking.

"Yeah, Dean, it's me." Sam said, letting go of Dean's wrists as the older brother stopped straggling. He placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, a little worried when Dean didn't shrug it off. "You okay?" Sam asked. Dean swallowed, looking around again, as if waiting for something to jump at him from the shadows. "Dean?" Dean cleared his throat.

"Yeah," he said gruffly, "Yeah, I'm fine. Dude, get off me." He said, pushing Sam away. Sam stared at his older brother for a few moments, gauging to see what was going to happen next. When nothing did, he asked,

"You want to talk about it?" Dean snorted.

"Sure." He said, "And then we can paint each other's toe nails and braid each other's hair." He said sarcastically, laying back against the headboard, "I bet there'll be plenty of braids on that mop of yours, I'd probably have to work on it all night long."

"Hey, I cut my hair three months ago!" Sam interjected.

"Uh, if it's long enough to get in your eyes, and it's long enough for birds to think they can nest in it, it's too long!" Dean shot back. "And trimming half an inch doesn't count as a haircut." He added grumpily, closing his eyes. _God, he was tired_. But those sights kept replaying themselves behind his closed lids, and so he forced his eyes open. _Oh, great. The lost puppy stare. That thing should be illegal!_ "What, Sam?"

"Are you sure everything's okay, Dean?" Sam insisted. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Sam…" he said in a tone of voice that clearly stated it was the end of that discussion. Sam sighed, relenting, and moved back over to his own bed, resting against his own headboard. He tugged at his blanket, pulling it higher and tighter around him. He sighed, closing his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. And then he remembered the reason he woke up in the first place. Yep, sleep was definitely out the window for him.

Sam considered turning the TV on, watching it in mute, but he figured it would bother Dean. Sam turned to look at his brother. Dean was lying on his back, his arms folded under his head as he stared at the ceiling. Apparently, Dean wasn't really in the mood to go back to sleep, too. Sam wondered what Dean might be thinking. Sometimes, he wished his 'Shining' thing came with the ability to get in Dean Winchester's head and figure out what the hell was going on in there. If women were from Venus, and men were from Mars, then Dean was from another freaking galaxy altogether. Sam sighed again, this time actually looking to see Dean's reaction. There wasn't any.

Sam was just beginning to feel the pull of sleep when Dean called out his name. He said it so quietly that, for a moment, Sam thought that he had only imagined it. He turned on his side, looking at Dean, just to make sure.

Dean was still staring at the ceiling, one arm still folded under his head while the other lay on his stomach. Dean was biting his lip, a sure sign that something was bothering him.

"Dean?" Sam asked, knowing that if he didn't, this might never go any farther than that. Dean glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, clearing his throat. Sam leaned against his elbow, propping himself up a little so he could see Dean better, but Dean didn't say anything. Sam sighed. "Dean?" he asked again, trying to coax his brother to speak with the gentle tone of his voice. This time, Dean turned his head to look at him, still biting his lip. It seemed to Sam like Dean was a million miles away. There was a long moment of silence. Dean cleared his throat a couple more times. He wanted to talk. Sam knew that he did, but for some reason, his brother was finding it too hard. Sam hated that. He hated that Dean couldn't talk to him. Hated even more the idea that maybe Dean could talk to him, but wouldn't.

"Sam," Dean said eventually, turning his eyes away from his little brother and back towards the ceiling. He took a deep breath and just let it out. "If you could do it all over again, if you had the chance to go back and do things… I don't know, different. Would you?" Dean asked, his voice a little husky. Sam raised a brow, completely taken by surprise by that question. He opened his mouth to speak a couple of times, but couldn't think of anything to say. This question came from left field, giving him no warning whatsoever. Dean cleared his throat again. "I mean," he went on in a small voice, "you know, the whole leaving for college stuff." Dean added. Sam laid back on his back, staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. _Where had that come from?_

For a long moment that seemed to stretch forever, neither brother spoke. They both lay there, looking everywhere but at the other, and then Sam sat up, leaning against the headboard.

"No." He said in a small voice, and turned to look at Dean's reaction. Dean just kept staring at the ceiling, saying nothing. "Dean," Sam tried, but Dean ignored him. Sam scratched his cheek and ran his fingers through his hair. The silence in the room was suffocating, there was tension in the air, and Sam hated it. He had to explain, it was obvious that Dean didn't understand. "Dean," he started again, but Dean cut him off.

"Did you even miss me in all that time you were away? Did you even care what happen to me? To us?" Dean asked, and the raw emotion in his voice cut through Sam like a knife. "Was it really that easy to just pack up and leave, not looking back?"

"What?" Sam straightened, staring incredulously at Dean, "Dean!" at that, Dean gave him a weak smile and a shrug.

"It's okay," he said, returning his eyes back to the ceiling. "I understand, Sam."

"Like hell you do!" Sam cried, his heart speeding. _What the hell was Dean thinking?_ "Dean, of course I missed you! I missed you all the time! Have you any idea how many times I wished you were there so I could tell you things? So I could tell you how I impressed my Latin professor, or how well I did in one of the toughest courses where almost everyone else failed? Do you have any idea how much I wanted you there after I first met Jess?" he asked, throwing his legs off the bed and sitting so he could look at Dean better. Dean turned his head to look at him, but didn't say a thing. "Dean, man, I kept having these stupid imaginary talks with you." Sam said, his voice a little softer as a shadow of a smile crossed his lips. He shook his head. "I always used to think 'What would Dean do? What would Dean say?'" Sam licked his lips, and still, Dean didn't respond.

"I hated being away from you, Dean. I was so used to you being there…" Sam said, shaking his head. He swallowed, giving his brother a weak smile. "But I had to do it. I had to leave, and if I had to do it again, I still would have left." He said. At that, Dean looked away, staring at the ceiling again. Sam ran his fingers through his hair. "Dean, you gotta understand. I hated that life. I hated hunting. I still do." He paused, looking at Dean, but his brother's face was an unreadable mask. "I hate the way dad used to treat us, still treats us. Like we're little kids, like we can't think for ourselves, like we can't possibly have a better idea." Sam went on, "I hated living in his shadow, living in your shadow. I hated living _his_ life, and not mine." Sam shook his head again, staring at his hands.

"I just… I needed to get out. I needed to find out who _I_ was, who I _am_." Sam said. "Dean,"

"Yeah, whatever, Sam." Dean stopped him. "I hope you found what you were looking for, little brother. I really do." He said, and then grabbed his pillow, rearranging it.

For the longest of moments, a heavy silence hung in the air. The silence felt awkward, and there was tension in the air.

Sam knew the night was over. He wasn't going to get anymore sleep. He got out of bed, pacing the room, glancing at Dean every couple of seconds. Dean had both his arms under his head again. His eyes were closed, but Sam knew he wasn't sleeping.

That was the last thing they needed right now, the last thing Sam needed. He already felt bad about Dean's birthday, and now this. _Why did Dean have to ask him that question? Why did it have to be now? And why was he being so damn quiet? What was he thinking? Why wasn't he saying anything? Yell, get angry, say I'm a selfish bustard, just say something, _anything_ other than 'I hope you found what you were looking for'. What does it mean, Dean? Did you find what you were looking for?_

Sam couldn't stand it anymore. Couldn't stand the silence. Couldn't stand the guilt. Couldn't stand the tension between himself and his brother. Even when they were kids and fought each other, even when they were teenagers and Sam resented Dean for always siding with their dad, there was never this tension between them. He racked his fingers through his hair, clasping them behind his neck as he exhaled loudly.

"Dean, come on, man." He said, "Look, I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do anymore, Dean." He said desperately. At that, Dean opened his eyes, looking questioningly at Sam.

"About what?" Dean asked, arching a brow. Sam shook his head, smiling awkwardly and swallowing.

"About you." he said, "About us. About this whole freaking thing." He scratched his neck, sitting back down on his bed. "It's all so messed up, and I don't know how to fix it!" he cried exasperatedly.

"Yeah, me neither." Dean said eventually, after a long, nerve wracking pause. _Wait, what? Did I hear right?_ Sam wondered, almost smiling,_ did Dean just openly admit something really was going on? That something really was wrong? Huh. I can see the front page of tomorrow's paper already. Pigs flying in Texas, storm system so cold that hell froze over_.

"Dean, I'm sorry, man." Sam said after yet another uncomfortable silence.

"For what?" Dean said dryly, not looking at him. Sam shook his head.

"It's my fault." He said, "I'm having all those visions about the Demon, I should have known something was wrong. I should have known it wasn't really dad…" Sam said. He had thought that getting it off his chest would make him feel better. That he'd feel less guilty for everything that happened to Dean in that cabin. He was wrong. Dean gave him a long look, and then turned away again, saying nothing. Sam swallowed hard, feeling so much worse.

"I mean, I have this… power," he went on, the word leaving a bad taste in his mouth. "I'm the one the Demon wants, I'm the reason all this has happened…"

"Sam,"

"Mom, Jess – they died because of me! It's my fault!" Sam snapped, "And then it was killing you, right in front of me, and I couldn't even… The gun was right there!" he cried, raising his voice in frustration. He looked guiltily at Dean, who just stared at him, and his silence was worse than anything he might have said. "It's my fault you nearly died, man. It's all my fault." Sam's voice cracked at the end, his eyes welling up. He swallowed hard, unable to look at his older brother. And still, Dean didn't say anything. Sam smiled miserably, shaking his head.

The ironic thing was that right now, Sam needed Dean more than anything. He needed Dean to help him deal, to tell him what to do, how to handle this unbelievingly difficult conversation. And yet it was Dean he was talking to, Dean he was having this uncomfortable moment with. And Dean still didn't say anything. He didn't say what Sam wanted to hear, what Sam _needed_ to hear.

"It wasn't your fault, Sam." Dean said eventually, pushing himself up on his elbows and looking at his younger brother. _Oh. But still_… "None of it's your fault." Dean said, letting himself drop back into his pillow, looking away from Sam again. For some reason, these words weren't encouraging. They sounded hollow to Sam.

"Dean,"

"Now, if we're done with this precious Dr. Phil moment, can we just get back to sleep now? 'Cause seriously, Sam, we keep doing this talking thing, I'm gonna really have some nightmares." Dean interjected, not letting Sam continue. Sam shook his head, sighing, staring at his brother. This still wasn't right. Dean still wasn't right. And Sam still didn't know how to fix it.

Feeling his little brother's stare practically baring a hole into him, Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, God, I swear Sammy, you try to hug me, and I'll make you watch the fabric softener teddy bear commercials for three hours straight!" he snapped, though there was no real irritation in his voice. Sam smiled, letting out a small laugh, and laid back in his bed.

The two of them lay there in silence for what felt like ages, but must have only been minutes, before Sam spoke up again.

"Dean?"

"Oh, jeez, now what?"

"Happy birthday, man." Sam said, not looking at his brother.

"Thanks." Dean said, a little awkwardly, a few moments later.

"You thought I forgot, didn't you?" Sam asked. He could practically hear Dean's eye roll.

"Just go to sleep, Sir Sigh-A-Lot." Dean said tiredly, and Sam smiled.

"Alright," he said, "but then you won't get your present." He added a couple of seconds later.

"You got me a present?" Dean sounded a little more surprised than Sam would have liked.

"Nah, I'm just teasing you, man." Sam joked, but Dean failed to play along. Pushing himself up on his elbows, Sam turned on the nightlight. Dean winced at the offending light, covering his eyes with his arm.

"Urgh! Dude, turn it off!" he cried.

"You want your present, don't you?" Sam asked, reaching for his backpack and taking out a little wrapped package. Getting up, he walked over to Dean's bed, sitting down. "Happy birthday, Dean." He said as he gave Dean his gift. Dean sat up in bed, looking hesitantly from Sam to the little bag in his hand. "Well? Come on, man, open it!" Sam urged him.

"Dude!" Dean breathed as he saw what was inside, making Sam grin.

He felt a little guilty for remembering Dean's birthday at the last minute, and then having Lynn come up with the perfect idea for a present, but the look on Dean's face as he took out the three CDs, turning them over in his hands… That was worth everything.

He had gotten him three CDs. It wasn't much, but it was a start, a way to recreate his collection. There was an AC/DC CD, a Metallica one, and a mixed one, with some of Dean's favorites. Sam thought of buying something newer, too, something from the nineties, maybe, to keep things interesting. But he figured Dean would just toss him out of the car along with the CD…

It was a start. A small token. He'll just have to work harder on replacing the rest of Dean's missing tapes. And least that way, there will be something to cover up the silence in the car…

TBC


	13. Chapter 12

A/N: Well, guys, I _tried_ to update early, but the site insisted on giving me a hard time. Sorry for all the alerts. Let's hope this time it goes better.

Chapter Twelve

Sam woke up late the next morning, feeling nowhere near refreshed enough, but he just couldn't go back to sleep. He groaned, getting out of bed, and went to the bathroom to relieve the pressure to his bladder. Dean was still asleep when he got out. Sam scratched his head, yawning. His stomach was growling, but he didn't want to go and eat breakfast without Dean. He could use some coffee, though, and he guessed Dean would be grateful to have some when he woke up.

Making up his mind, Sam grabbed the car keys, glancing at the sleeping form of his older brother, and then got out of the motel room. He bought coffee for the both of them in the nearby diner, and even got a few doughnuts to go with it. Sam figured Dean would be up by the time he got back to the room. He was wrong. He hesitated for a moment, not sure what to do next.

Sam decided on some research. He placed the coffee cups and the doughnuts on the small table and took out his laptop, turning it on as he lay back on his bed. On second thought, he brought his own coffee and doughnut to the nightstand before sitting back on the bed, lying against the headboard with the laptop on his stomach and the coffee in his hand. He surfed the web for a while, his mind a thousand miles away, thinking of the events of the previous night.

Putting the coffee down, Sam straightened a little and searched for the local paper on the net, interested to find out more about the fire. He didn't find the paper, but did find the town's news site. Sifting through the gossip and other nonsense, Sam finally found what he was looking for. A witness's account on last night's fire. The house belonged to a young family of three, with a small baby. The baby had suffered from smoke inhalation, but was reported to be in good health. The house was severely burnt, but it didn't burn to the ground. The rest of the information was useless to him, but Sam couldn't help but think that it had been the Demon.

So maybe the signs weren't all there, but his gut told him that it had been the Demon. It would explain his visions. And then Sam's heart began to race. _What about the nightmares? Were they prophetic? Was the Demon after Lynn? And why? Because he was involved with her? They only knew each other for a couple of weeks, why would it want her dead? And why did it always happen to_ him_? It just wasn't fair. He was sick and tired of it. He'd never asked for it, for any of it. Why was it so damn difficult to just be normal? No more hunting, no more demons, no more women ending up on the ceiling above his bed… That would be so nice… No more fighting, no more getting hurt, no more_… His eyes and thoughts went to his brother.

Dean knew something he wasn't telling him, Sam was sure of it. _What happened last night?_ Sam wondered, Dean was at the scene of the fire, Sam was sure of that. He could smell the smoke in his brother's clothes. Would Dean be stupid enough to go in? _Yes_. If it was just a fire, Dean wouldn't hesitate. Not for a second. _But what if it wasn't just a fire? Did Dean suspect the Demon would attack? How? How would his brother even know _where_ the Demon would attack if Sam had no idea it was even here? And would Dean still go into that fire if he knew the Demon was there? Would he really go in alone? Without even _trying_ to contact Sam?_

"Would you stop with the staring, you big freak?" Dean groaned, turning his head towards Sam and pushing himself up from the bed. "What time is it, anyway?" Dean asked. Sam looked at his watch.

"Quarter past nine." He answered. Dean let out a guttural groan he soon regretted. His throat felt raw, and truth be told, he was a little queasy. "I got coffee, if you want. It's cold, but not too bad." Sam offered. Dean scratched the back of his thigh, his hand going absently to his aching ribs as he made his way to the bathroom.

Closing the door behind him, Dean answered nature's call and then washed his hands, leaning over the dirty sink to look at his tired reflection in the mirror. He had to admit, he had looked better than he did right now. Clearing his throat didn't help with the soreness. _Wonderful_. He brushed his teeth and shaved, his eyes feeling heavy and itchy. They were red, too. And this was definitely not a good hair day. He turned the water on, splashing some on his face. It didn't really help. He groaned. He felt like he had been hit by a car. Again. _Now wasn't that just freakin' great_?

Dean forced himself out of the bathroom when Sam knocked on the door. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back to bed and sleep for a century or three. Maybe even go back and finish his treatment. It had helped a lot. Well, until the smoke inhalation kicked in, along with the cold and oh, yeah, the Demon. Dean was back to square one again. Well, not exactly; his chest didn't hurt as much as it did before, but he felt weary, weak. Vulnerable even. And Dean hated that feeling.

"Hey, you wanna go for breakfast? I'm starving." Sam said. Dean's stomach lurched and he smothered a groan. No, eating was not that high up his priority list, but he said yes, just to get Sam off his back and keep pretending everything was alright. Truth be told, he wasn't so sure why he kept with the false bravado when all he wanted to do was leave any and all behind and just… But he refused to even finish that thought. He can't leave Sam, not with the Demon out to get him. Not when the Demon was _here_.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean said, slumping down on his bed. He needed to change his clothes, but the thought of reaching all the way over to his duffle wasn't nearly as appealing as the thought of going back to sleep. But oh, man, Sam was giving him _that_ look, that worried puppy dog eyes look. So he just gritted his teeth and got dressed, trying his best to keep from retching all over the place.

"Hey, you okay, man? You look a little green." Sam noted.

"I'm fine. Can we just go eat?" Dean retorted. Sam bit his lip and Dean sighed inwardly. _Oh, great. A chick flick moment alert. As if he weren't feeling sick enough already_. "What is it, Sam?" Dean asked snappishly. _Might as well get it over with_, he thought. Sam looked at him with those big brown eyes, and then lowered his eyes, suddenly finding the carpet exceptionally interesting. He fiddled with his hands, fidgeting, and Dean rolled his eyes. "You're gonna say something any time soon, Sam, or are we playing charades?"

"I'm sorry." Sam said in a small voice. Dean frowned.

"For what?" he asked, though his tone of voice told Sam Dean wasn't really interested in what he had to say. Not that it was going to stop Sam from apologizing.

"I… I got the dates all mixed up…" Sam admitted, "I thought it was the twenty third last night, or I never would have…"

"Sam," Dean raised a hand, stopping his brother. _So Sam forgot about his birthday. Big deal. No one else remembered, either. It wasn't important. No one ever made a big deal out of his birthday. Well, no one except his mother. He could barely remember it now, it was mostly feelings and images, but he did recall his forth birthday. It was the last happy birthday he had had. Everything seemed to go downhill after that._

"No, Dean," Sam went on, "I… I wanted us to do something together. I never meant to leave you alone on your birthday." Sam said apologetically.

"It's okay, Sam." Dean said exasperatedly.

"No, it's not." Sam said quickly. "Look, maybe… maybe we could do something today? Just you and me?" Sam suggested.

"Like what?" Dean asked, just out of curiosity.

"Well, Lynn suggested a nice restaurant, you know, something other than greasy burgers for once." Sam tried, "Or… or we could go for a beer or something…" Sam tried again, seeing the look on Dean's face. Dean raised his brow at the second suggestion, and Sam cursed himself as he remembered Dean tried to refrain from drinking now. "Or, you know, whatever you want to do." Sam stuttered.

"Let's just get some breakfast and a paper. I'm done with this place, time to move on." Dean said gruffly, getting to the door and getting out of the room, leaving a confused and guilt-ridden Sam behind.

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"And what can I get you, sugar?" the middle aged waitress asked, a cigarette bud hanging from her lips as she looked aloofly down at Dean, waiting for his order. Sam had ordered a mushroom omelet, bacon and hash browns. He glanced at Dean, lifting his head from his laptop. Dean didn't really feel like eating. Even the smell made him sick to his stomach.

"Just coffee please," he said, "Black." He added. The waitress scowled, pouring some coffee from the pot in her hand and disappearing quickly.

"Just coffee?" Sam asked, studying Dean. He didn't like the way his brother looked. Add that to the smell of smoke from last night, and Sam was more than a little suspicious. "I thought you said you were hungry?" Sam stared at Dean.

"No, you said you were hungry," Dean corrected, "I just said we should get this breakfast over with."

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"You know, I think AA or someone said that the definition of insanity is asking the same thing over and over again and expecting different answers every time." Dean noted.

"Actually, I think the definition for insanity is going up against a Demon alone." Sam deadpanned. Dean quickly raised his eyes from the paper, locking them with Sam's eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Dean demanded, and then his eyes widened. "You didn't…"

"No. You did." Sam said, testing his brother's reaction. He wasn't sure of it, but he wouldn't put it past his brother and his ginormous ego.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dean said quickly, almost indifferently, leafing through his paper. Sam exhaled loudly.

"So, last night, you didn't do anything stupid? You know, like oh, I don't know, go up against the Demon and try to rescue that baby all on your moron, stupid-self?" Sam demanded. Dean raised a brow.

"Now, why would I do that?" he asked, "You're psychic boy, if there's a demon here, shouldn't you be the one to know about it? You know, with your 'sneak previews of the horrors, coming soon to a haunted house near you'?" Sam narrowed his eyes, snorting. Dean was being a smart ass. That still didn't mean he wasn't lying through his teeth.

"I'm just saying," Sam tried to change the subject, still scrutinizing his brother, who seemed to do his best to ignore Sam. "I don't even remember the last time you weren't hungry." Dean was about to say something when his face suddenly scrunched up. "Dean?" Sam asked, a little worried. Dean wrinkled his nose, suddenly shrinking into his seat. Sam straightened, getting a little nervous. "Dean?" and then Dean sneezed violently. Sam blinked.

"Ewww." He said, wiping his face, grimacing in disgust.

"Well, great." Dean said, and sneezed again.

"Dean…" Sam started, but Dean raised his hand to stop whatever Sam was about to say.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." Dean said, and quickly rushed over to the bathroom. Sam was about to follow him when something caught his eye. Reaching over, he grabbed the paper, turning it over to the first page. There was an article about the fire from last night. Two pictures were printed by the story; one of those was a picture of the burning house. The other, however, was the one that made Sam suck in his breath and curse. His heart started pounding in his chest as he tried to wrap his mind around it, to try and make sense of it.

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"So… what are the chances you're done with breakfast? 'Cause I, for one, am ready to get out of here." Dean said in a hoarse voice as he got back from the bathroom, sliding back in his seat across from Sam. And then he noticed the look on Sam's face, the tension in his shoulders. "Sam? What is it?" Dean asked worriedly. Sam gave him the paper and Dean quickly looked at it. He couldn't find anything he hadn't seen before. Nothing that shot up any red flags. "What?"

"Look at the picture, Dean." Sam said in a hoarse voice. Dean frowned, looking at the picture again, and then back at Sam. "That family," Sam said rigidly. Dean raised a brow, gesturing with his hand for Sam to go on. "I saw them." Sam finally managed.

"Yeah? Well, front page, Sam. I think it's safe to say everyone saw them." Dean said, but Sam shook his head.

"No, I mean I _saw_ them." Sam said quietly, not looking at his brother, "Before it happened." He added. Dean gave a slight, slow nod, biting his lip. And then he raised his brow again.

"Wait, if you saw them, why didn't you say…?" Dean started but the rest of his words were lost in a fit of coughing.

"Dean? You okay, man?" Sam asked worriedly. Dean nodded, still coughing, motioning again for Sam to go on as he reached for his coffee. "Dean…"

"Answer the question." Dean coughed. Sam sighed.

"I didn't think it meant anything." He admitted, lowering his eyes. Dean took a long swig of his coffee, taking a deep breath.

"What do you mean you didn't think it meant anything? Seeing a family go up in flames, I can pretty much say it's right up our ally…"

"Yeah, I know, Dean, alright?" Sam snapped angrily. "It's just… I don't know," he shook his head, "It's… My visions… They're screwed up somehow." Sam added in an undertone. Dean raised a brow, finishing his coffee.

"And you're just realizing it now?" Sam glowered at him.

"No, I mean, I think I'm seeing more than one at a time." Sam explained a moment later. Dean scratched his brow. _Damn, it was hot in here_. He did his best to stay alert, to keep his attention on his brother's words, but his mind was swimming and a pulsing headache placed itself behind his eyes. _Oh, man, I'm gonna have to let Mopie drive_…

"More than one? What…?"

"Remember that apartment? The one with the poltergeist?" Sam asked, leaning forward. Dean gave a slight nod. Even if he didn't remember, his ribs were quick to remind him. Sam cocked his head to the side. "Well, remember I said that it was the place from my vision and that you said it was impossible because the guy didn't even have a family? It's because I never saw the guy." Sam said, his eyes flicking to something behind Dean, and quickly returning to his brother. "I saw the apartment, and I saw a family." Sam said, pointing at the picture on the front page. "This family." He added.

"Oh." Dean said, wiping his brow and masking it by running his hand through his hair.

"Oh?" Sam choked, "Dean…!"

"Yeah, fine, Sammy, I gotta hit the bathroom again." Dean stuttered, scrambling to his feet and hurrying towards the bathrooms again.

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"So, what's gonna happen now?" Sam asked as the two of them entered their motel room. Dean walked past him and Sam couldn't help but notice his brother's light swaying. Dean looked a little off. Probably a cold, Sam figured and cringed. Dean was impossible when he was sick. He hated being sick, and felt that if he were miserable, then everyone else should be at least as miserable, if not more so. _Man, he could be so irritating when he wanted to be_.

Dean sneezed, walking over to the bathroom and coming out with a roll of toilet paper. "Now we pack and get the hell out of this place. Been hanging out here for too long already." Dean said, wiping his brow again. Sam narrowed his eyes. It seemed like Dean was having a fever.

"Where would you like us to go?" Sam asked, keeping his eyes on his brother as the older hunter reached for his duffle. Dean sighed, grabbing a couple of shirts and shoving them in his bag.

"Wherever. Just hit the road, I guess. Like always." Dean shrugged. "Hey, you could go say a special goodbye to your girlfriend, make her miss you, huh?" Dean winked, smirking, and nudged Sam.

"Dean…" Dean made an innocent face, and then smirked. Sam shook his head, huffing and rolling his eyes.

"What?" Dean asked innocently, and then slumped on his bed. "Look, whatever dude. Tell her, make out with her, become a monk for all I care, just pack up your shit and let's get going, okay?" Dean said, coughing again. He lay down, his legs dangling down on the floor, and closed his eyes. He only meant to close his eyes for a couple of seconds, and then he'll go back to packing.

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"Dean?" Dean forced his eyes open and blinked a couple of times. "Hey, sorry to wake you, but your fever's gone up again, I need you to take these." Sam said. Dean blinked a couple more times until he could focus on the pills in Sam's hand and the glass of water in his other hand.

"Huh?"

"Just take these, Dean, okay?" Sam asked, reaching the pills closer to his brother. Dean looked questioningly at Sam, and Sam smiled at him, urging him to take the pills. Looking down, Dean realized he was in bed, tucked in all the way to his chest. He also noticed it was dark outside. It wasn't dark when he closed his eyes.

"Wha's going on?" Dean asked, and started coughing. Sam grimaced.

"I think your fever's gone up again." he said, "Take the pills, Dean." Dean hesitated a moment, but the look on Sam's face propelled him to take the pills. Sam smiled, nodding in satisfaction and took the empty glass away from Dean. Dean's fever went up to 102.4 the last time Sam had checked, but it had been three hours ago. Just the fact that Dean didn't even stir when Sam put the thermometer in his ear was worrying enough.

Dean leaned back into the pillow, closing his eyes again, and Sam got up, walking over to the bathroom to refill the glass with tap water.

"Hey, Sam?" Sam quickly walked over to his brother, lines of worry etched on his face. He tried smiling at Dean, but the older hunter didn't even look at him.

"Yeah?"

"Did we leave town yet?" Dean asked.

"No." Sam said, sitting back in the chair he's been sitting in for the past few hours, watching his brother. Dean was soaked in sweat, his cheeks flushed with fever. Sam hoped the pills will work soon. Dean was notorious for spiking fevers.

"Why not?" Dean asked hoarsely.

"Because you're sick," Sam said, "you need to lie down, Dean."

"Bullshit," Dean croaked, "you just want more smooch time with your girlfriend." At that, Sam smiled.

Dean was asleep again in minutes, and Sam used the chance to check his fever again, grimacing when the reading came out 103.6.

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Sam was pacing the room nervously. Dean was sleeping, just like he has been for the past day and a half. As Sam expected, his brother's fever showed no sign of breaking. He tried forcing the older man to drink as much as he could, and even tried giving Dean some toast, but it seemed all Dean was interested in was sleep.

Sam jumped when the phone started ringing. Dean's phone. It took Sam a while to find it, cursing under his breath. _Why can't he ever just clean up after himself?_ Unfortunately, by the time Sam finally found the cell phone, he had already missed the call. Apparently, the forth missed call. Sam scratched his head, wondering when he had missed all the other calls. Probably when he went out to get some food or cough syrup for Dean. And then his own cell started ringing. Sam cursed, tossing Dean's phone onto the table and reaching for his own. His father's number flashed on the screen and he quickly answered it.

"Dad?"

"Sammy? You boys okay?" John asked. Sam eyed Dean, and sighed, slumping down on his own bed.

"Yeah, we'll be hitting the road soon." Sam said. Their father never really cared about them getting sick, Sam doubted he'd start caring now.

"Your brother's still giving me the silent treatment?" John asked, and Sam raised a brow. _Is that what Dean's been doing?_ Sam glanced at Dean's prone form. "Sam?"

"When did you call him?" Sam asked faintly.

"About a week ago. Left a message, too. Sam, you tell your brother I've been patient, but I'm not gonna take this shit anymore. He'd better start answering my calls, that's an order." The vein in Sam's forehead started to pulse as Sam clenched his jaw, his grip on the phone tightening.

"Like hell it is."

"Excuse me?" his father's voice sounded both shocked and enraged.

"The last time you tried calling him was a week ago?" Sam spat through clenched teeth. He went on before his father had had the chance to respond. "You do realize Dean's birthday was three days ago, right?" he snapped, his voice rising, his own anger and guilt laced with each word. He was mad at his dad for expecting Dean to be okay with everything that had happened when he didn't even bother to wish his eldest a happy birthday. He was angry at his dad for not being there, and he was furious with himself for forgetting, too. Dean may have trusted their father, but he counted on Sam much more than he counted on their dad, at least that's how Sam felt. And the fact that he had forgotten, even if he had already apologized and tried to make things right, made him feel guilty, made him feel like he somehow let Dean down. He didn't plan on doing it again.

John was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer, subdued, maybe even rueful.

"Sam…"

"Forget it, dad. I don't really think he expected us to remember." Sam snapped. He remembered how surprised, how shocked Dean seemed when he had told him he had gotten him a gift. It was almost as if Dean really didn't expect anything, and that made Sam's heart ache.

"Put him on the phone, Sam." John said. Sam glanced at his sleeping brother. There was no way he was going to wake Dean up for this.

"I can't, dad." He said.

"Sam," there was a hint of warning and a trace of plea in that one word, and Sam sighed.

"I really can't, dad. He's sleeping." Sam said.

"Sleeping?" the disbelief in his father's voice was apparent.

"Yes, sir."

"It's the middle of the afternoon, Sam." John noted.

"Well, he still is." Sam said stubbornly. "Look, dad, he's sick, okay?" he added after a pregnant moment.

"Sick?" John sighed. "Would you tell him I called? Ask him to call me back?"

"I'll tell him you called." Sam said. That was the best he could do. And then John hung up. There were no goodbyes, no 'see you later'. Sam never expected there to be. He wondered if Dean would.

TBC

A/N: Well, initially, John was supposed to come help take care of Dean, but then Sam started yelling at him, so now he won't let me write him back. Don't worry, Sam will take care of his brother. And there will be plenty of surprises… Want to know what's gonna happen? Reviews might help… ;)


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Sam woke up to the sound of his brother being sick. He scrambled out of bed and into the bathroom, where the older brother kneeled in front of the toilet, dry heaving. Sam grimaced, crouching next to Dean and putting his hands on his brother's sweaty back and shoulder, supporting him. Dean kept dry heaving for a long time, finally slumping into Sam, unable to keep himself up anymore. Sam held onto him, pulling him closer to his chest. Heat was radiating off of Dean in waves and Sam cursed inwardly.

The lowest Dean's fever got in the past day was 102.5, and it was definitely much higher now. Sam had been considering taking his brother to a hospital for more than a day, but Dean argued so vehemently against it, that Sam was pretty sure he'd just check himself out the moment they got there.

Sam leaned Dean against the bathroom wall without any resistance, which only worried him farther. Getting to his feet with a grunt, he refilled the empty glass standing on the sink and grabbed a face towel, wetting it. Sam crouched next to Dean again, handing him the glass, but other than fixing it a long, exhausted look, Dean remained just as Sam had left him.

"Come on, Dean, you have to drink." Sam cajoled. "Just try, okay? For me?" Sam tried when he got no response. Dean glanced at him, his face pale, his cheeks flushed, dark circles under his eyes and the sheen of sweat covering his entire body. He reached a shaky hand towards the water glass, but let his hand drop before he reached it, closing his eyes in exhaustion. Sam gave a weak, encouraging smile that went unnoticed, and put the glass to his brother's lips. Dean took a couple of unsure sips and then averted his head, his eyes still closed. Sam reached over, putting his hand on his brother's forehead. Dean was burning up. Sam pressed the wet towel to the back of Dean's neck, getting no response.

"Does that feel any better?" Sam asked. Dean nodded lightly. "You want to try and drink some more?" he offered, but Dean just gave a slight shake of his head, making Sam frown. "You really need some fluids, Dean, just a couple more sips, okay?" he tried, bringing the glass back to Dean's lips, but this time Dean didn't cooperate. Racking his fingers through his hair, Sam got to his feet. Dean felt too warm, he needed to know how high his fever got. The answer made his heart hammer, made him curse. Dean's fever got up to 105.2.

"Dean, I really think we should get you to a hospital." Sam said seriously.

"No hospitals." Dean breathed.

"Dean," Sam bit his lip, hesitating. He had to get the fever down, and fast. Sam sighed, turning on the cold water in the shower. He took a couple of pills from the first aid kit and crouched by Dean's side again. "You have to take these, Dean. Now." Sam said assertively, helping Dean with the pills, glad to see his brother drink a little more this time.

Sam left his brother for only a couple of minutes, going outside to get some ice, receiving looks from the people around. He was, after all, getting ice on a cold day at the end of January. But Sam didn't even notice them. He got the ice and poured it in the shower.

He tested the water temperature, and when he was sure it was cold enough, Sam went over to Dean. His breathing seemed labored. It seemed so wrong to Sam, felt so unnatural. Dean was the strong one, Dean was the one that always took care of everything. Sam hated seeing him like this. Dean rarely got sick, but when he did, it usually got pretty bad.

"Come on, grandpa, let's get you to your feet." Sam muttered, slipping his hands under Dean's arms and yanking him to his feet, sitting him down on the closed toilet lid as Sam helped Dean take his clothes off.

"Sammy?" Dean opened a heavy lidded eye.

"Yeah?"

"The hell are you doing?" Dean croaked, "No way I had this much to drink…" Sam couldn't help but smile.

"You have a really high fever, you need to take a shower to get it down." Sam explained patiently.

"Oh." Dean said, doing his best to keep his head upright. "Don't you dare take my underwear off, perv. I know you, can't wait to get your hands on all of this…" he said cockily, motioning at his body. It might have been funny, if he hadn't started coughing at that moment. Sam patted his back, trying to help his older brother breathe easier, but it still took some time for the coughing to stop.

"Dean, you should really see a doctor…"

"Only if she's waiting for me in bed." Dean breathed, cutting Sam off in what was supposed to be an angry tone, but ended up just sounding weak and pathetic. Sam rolled his eyes.

"So, you're passing up the chance to have plenty of hot nurses fighting over who's gonna give you a sponge bath?" Sam tried. Dean forced his eyes open, glaring at Sam.

"No hospitals!" he said, sneezing violently. Sam pursed his lips, gritting his teeth. _Stubborn fool. Not gonna work Dean, I'll get you better even if I have to kill you to get it done!_

"Come on." Sam said, helping Dean to his feet and into the bathtub. Dean yelped when his feet touched the cold water, and tried to get out of the shower, but Sam held him in place.

It was another thing Sam was worried about. He might have gained some more upper body strength in the past year, but Dean was, and has always been stronger. The fact that it didn't take much to restrain his brother as he fought to get out of the water hurt Sam as much as the freezing water hurt his brother.

"Stop it, Sam, let me out!" Dean cried, trying to shove Sam away, trying to get out of the icy water. "Sam, move it! I mean it, Sam, let me out!"

"Dean, just relax, alright? We need to get your temperature down or I'm gonna have to take you to a hospital." Sam said as he fought to keep Dean in the tub, trying to lower him further into the cold water. Okay, so even when he was weak and tired, Dean still gave him a run for his money.

"Stop it Sam! Let go!" Dean yelled gruffly, choking on his coughs, "You think I'm kidding with you? Let me out of here or I swear I'll wipe the floor with your ass and then run you over with the car!" Dean snapped, coughing, teeth clattering.

"Dean, please," Sam pleaded, but Dean fought so desperately to get out that Sam didn't have the heart to keep fighting him. Sighing, he relented, helping Dean out of the shower. Dean slumped down on the floor, shivering, coughing, glaring angrily at his brother. That's when Sam noticed the ugly shade of red on Dean's legs, just now realizing how much the freezing water had actually physically hurt his brother. He bit his lip guiltily, looking remorsefully at Dean, cursing under his breath. He should have known, his brother's fever was so high, of course the ice water hurt him! He should have used lukewarm water, Sam thought angrily as he helped his brother back to bed. Dean's legs were like rubber, and now that he was out of the offending water, he nearly collapsed, having spent whatever energy he had left to get out of the tub.

Sam went back to the bathroom, dropping a couple of towels in the tub, soaking them, and then brought those over to Dean, working his best to keep the fever down. He also brought over the glass of water, trying to coax Dean to drink. He made sure to keep his brother as cooled as possible, wiping his sweaty face and the back of his neck, replacing the cold towel over his brow every few minutes.

"Dean, drink this," Sam said, giving his brother some juice. He figured if Dean won't eat anything, the least he could do is make sure Dean drank something that gave him some strength. "Come on, Dean, drink some more, or I swear I'm taking you to a hospital, you hear me?" Sam threatened, knowing full and well that his brother would do almost anything to keep out of a hospital.

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Sam slumped down on his own bed, spreading his arms to the sides. He was exhausted, having spent almost three hours trying to bring Dean's fever down. He had never been happier to see his brother having a fever of 103.3. Sam turned his head, looking at the sleeping form of his older brother. He gave a weak smile, and then closed his eyes. His stomach was growling, but he just didn't have the energy to get out and buy some food right now. And so he joined his older brother in sleep.

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_It was hot. Man, when did it get so hot in here? Wasn't it supposed to be winter? Dean could definitely remember rain, and freezing cold, but it was so damn hot. It felt like he was burning. He looked down at the room beneath him. Something's not right… His father smiled at him, looking up at Dean, and there were tiny wrinkles by the sides of his brown eyes. That relaxed Dean a little; his father looking at him with those completely normal brown eyes, and not those awful yellow ones. This was Dad, not the Demon. But why was it so damn hot in here? And… why was dad looking_ up_? It was almost as if Dean were..._

_"It should have been you." his father said in a gruff voice._

_"Dad?" Dean asked. He wanted to wipe his sweaty brow, but for some reason, he couldn't move. He swallowed hard, panic building at the pit of his stomach. But he shouldn't panic, his dad was right there, right? Dad will never let anything happen to him..._

_"It should have been you all along." John accused, and the look in his eyes was disgusted, disappointed, sneering. Dean's heart began to race. "We could have survived losing you." John went on, "I would have still had Mary. Sam would have had a normal life. He would have been happy, he would've still had Jess." His father said, narrowing his eyes. "We probably would have had more children. I always wanted a big family, did you know that?" he accused, and Dean's throat constricted. He blinked the moisture out of his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. He tried to speak, but no voice came out of his mouth. This was his father, not the Demon. This is what his father thought, what his father felt, and deep down, Dean wasn't all that surprised to hear it._

_"It should have been you who died that night! It should have always been you!" and Dean stared at his father in horror as the flames burst out, engulfing him. His whole body screamed in agony, but he still couldn't move, couldn't free himself or escape the inferno surrounding him. He cried out to his father, but his voice died and the blaze only grew. Dean's eyes searched for his father's, begging, praying, wishing he'd see those yellow eyes, wishing it was the Demon and not his Dad. Brown eyes stared coolly at him as his father's lips quirked up in a slight grin._

_The pain was unbearable. He couldn't breathe. And yet he screamed at the top of his lungs._

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Sam woke up with a start, looking around the room for any sign of danger, his heart racing. He jumped off the bed, still checking to make sure there was no threat. And then Dean screamed again. _Oh, no, not again_, Sam thought, rushing over to Dean.

"Dean, Dean wake up, it's just…" but Sam never finished his sentence. He sucked in his breath, and then cursed out loud. Dean was sweaty, his cheeks red with fever. His fever has gone up again. Sighing, Sam walked back to the bathroom, making sure to fill the tub with lukewarm water this time.

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Sam woke up, exhausted. Whoever was on the other side of the door, Sam wished them to get run over by a truck followed by a personal encounter with Snuggles. Groaning, Sam pushed himself up from his seat. He was stiff all over. Putting his hand on his neck, he stretched, grimacing and glancing at his sleeping brother. The fever was still high. If it stays this way, like it or not, Dean was going to the hospital. Sam narrowed his eyes in irritation, growling as another knock was heard.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" he said irritably, opening the door. "Lynn?"

"Hi sweetie." Lynn smiled, standing on her fingertips to kiss him. Sam raised a brow.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Well, you haven't called me in a couple of days, and last time we talked you said your brother got sick, so I figured…" she shrugged, "you know, I'd come to you. That way you can still take care of your brother and I can take care of you." she smiled at him, kissing him again.

"Lynn…" Sam wasn't sure what to say. He was touched that she came over, he liked it that she thought of him and missed him, but he wasn't sure about her being there.

"I brought Chinese. Brought some chicken noodle soup for your brother, too." Lynn said, pushing by him and entering the motel room. She spread the takeout bags on the small table and wrinkled her nose. "Man, it really smells in here. Open a window, would you?"

Sam was speechless for a moment, before he shook his head, closing the door. "No, it's cold outside, I don't want him…"

"It's not really that cold anymore, and the fresh air will do him good." Lynn said, looking around the room. When Sam didn't open the window, she did it herself. "Well, come on, you must be hungry." She said, opening the small takeout boxes. The smell made Sam's mouth water and his stomach grumble. Lynn smiled, and Sam smiled back at her, a little self-conscious. "Have you even slept? You look like hell." Lynn observed.

"Oh, thanks." Sam smirked.

"Good thing I'm here to take care of you, right?" she asked, winking at him, and pushed him down to sit by the table as she started massaging his shoulders. Sam groaned in content, letting his head roll back. "Should we wake him?" at that, Sam raised a brow. "Your brother. Dan, was it?"

"Dean." Sam corrected. "Why would we want to do that?" he asked.

"Well, I did get him the soup. When was the last time he ate anything?" Lynn rummaged around the containers, fishing out the chicken soup. Sam thought about it for a moment, but really couldn't remember the last time Dean ate without it ending up on the bathroom floor.

"I guess you have a point." He said, walking over to Dean's bed. Dean didn't really feel like waking up, and finally Lynn suggested that they'd eat first, saying they could always reheat the soup.

Sam nearly fell asleep in his seat twice, before Lynn grabbed him and told him that there's no way she was going to carry him to bed. He gave her a small, tired smile as she helped him undress and get in bed. He had tried to argue with her, but she promised she'd stay with them until Sam woke up again, and that she'd take care of Dean.

Sam stretched his aching limbs on his bed. He wasn't going to sleep. He just wanted to rest his eyes, just for a couple of seconds. _Hmm… was the bed always this soft?_

Lynn watched Sam sleep with a slight smile as she kept on eating. With both Winchesters out cold, no one would stand in her way. She made sure the door was locked and that Sam was indeed asleep before she turned to their duffels and started going through their things. She didn't know much about guns, but her Father wanted the Colt, and Dean had it. It must be here, and she was going to find it.

There were more than a couple of guns in both the boys' packs. Lynn just grabbed the one that looked the oldest. She gave a sidelong glance at the two sleeping men and quickly snuck out of the room, hiding the gun in her car.

She made sure to close the door really softly so it wouldn't wake the boys when she got up, not that there was much chance in that. Sam was out like a light, and Dean's fever was high, she could always say he was imagining things.

The weather was getting warmer now. Her Father really should have warned her about all those freak storms, it would have been a good excuse to go shopping.

Lynn sat down on Dean's bed, watching Sam sleep. He was cute. Okay, he was really cute. He was more than a decent kisser, and that drunken thing still kept her amused. The thing is, he wasn't her usual type. Too clean-cut, too polite, too… good. No, Lynn liked her guys a little darker. Her lips curled up as her eyes switched over to Dean. Now, he was more like it. He wasn't cute – he was damn hot. She couldn't resist, reaching her hand to remove a stray strand of damp hair from his sweaty brow. Her brow furrowed. He was hot alright, he was burning up. Why Sam hasn't taken him to a hospital, she had no idea.

Lynn got up from the bed, walking over to the bathroom. She found the moist towels Sam had used, wetting them in cold water, and walked back over to Dean, putting one wet towel on his forehead and another behind his neck. She even called the managers for some more towels.

She kept trying to get Dean's fever to break, wondering if this was her Father's work. It was a shame, really. Her Father's plan, what he wanted… Did it have to be those guys? There were plenty of ugly people out there. Oh well, she was here now. A perfect opportunity. Even if the gun she found wasn't the one her Father needed, there was still John. Others could take care of it. She could end it here.

Stroking Dean's cheek, she shook her head at the waste and glanced at the sleeping Sam before reaching for her purse and taking her cell phone out. Dean stirred and Lynn quickly got away from him. Her Father had warned her about him. Not that she was afraid of him. In his weakened state, she doubted he could hurt a fly.

Lynn waited until her call was answered. She told her Father she was with the brothers, that she could finish it, do what he wanted. She was more than surprised by his answer. She was ordered to stay away. Biting her lip, she looked at Sam. _Was he really all that powerful? Could he really do what her Father wanted? And why couldn't she just get it over with?_

"I don't understand, I'm right here. I can do it! I can do this for you, Father. Why do you need _him?_" she asked bitterly, "I can get it done, I can take him right now, and his brother won't even notice it until it's too…" she bit her lip at her Father's angry retort, nodding even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Yes." She said in a small voice, "Yes, Father. As you wish." Lynn said submissively, hanging up the phone. Might as well get Dean's fever down then.

TBC

A/N: So, season 2 is slowly approaching, and this story is still a long way from ending, so I'm going to do my best to update twice a week from now on in hopes that I'll have it done before the season 2 plot bunnies decide to attack. Please Review, people. Seriously, I need some fuel here, especially if there's gonna be another update this week...


	15. Chapter 14

A/N: As promised, a second update. I mentioned it before, my knowledge in American geography is pretty basic. Therefore, the towns and city names in this story are made up.

A/N2: There is a small reference to my story 'Just a Kid', but you don't have to read that one to undertand what's happening here.

Chapter Fourteen

Lynn pressed her lips to Sam's brow, waking him up. It took a couple of seconds for Sam to get his eyes to focus. Lynn smiled at him, running her fingers through his hair.

"Hey," Sam said, pulling her closer and kissing her.

"Hey," Lynn said back, pulling slowly away. "I'm sorry to wake you, sweetie, but it's really late and I've got to get home." She said. Sam frowned, stretching. It made Lynn smile. He looked like a five year old kid when he did that, he was so cute she just couldn't resist kissing him again.

"What time is it?" Sam asked blurrily, sitting up in bed.

"Half past one, I think." Lynn said, getting to her feet and shouldering her purse.

"In the morning?" Sam asked, scratching his head.

"You know, you could probably go back to sleep." Lynn said, "I doubt your brother will be up for a while."

"Dean!" Sam cried, tossing the cover away and jumping out of the bed and over to his brother's side.

"His fever's down," Lynn noted, "I bet by tomorrow he'll be over most of it." She said, "I woke him up a few hours ago. He ate the soup, but not much else. I'm pretty sure he'll be really hungry tomorrow. I'll stop by, bring you guys some food." Sam touched Dean's brow. Lynn was right, the fever was down. Sam guessed it was no more than 101.5 at the moment. He breathed a sigh of relief, turning to look at Lynn.

"Thanks, Lynn, really. For everything." He said. She smiled at him.

"Oh, don't mention it. It's what girlfriends do." She said offhandedly, not missing the way Sam flinched. "Well, I'm off," she said, pecking him on the cheek, "I'll see you tomorrow after class, okay sweetie?"

"Um… uh... yeah. Yeah, sure." Sam said distractedly. Lynn hid her grin until she was out the door. What can she say, he was cute. Her Father could pick worse guys for her to be with, after all.

Sam stumbled over to a chair, a little stunned. _Lynn was his girlfriend? When has that happened?_ Okay, so he's been seeing her for a few weeks. He'd even go out to say they were… dating. And okay, there was this one night… Not that he'd mind a repeat of that, but to go as far as calling her his girlfriend? She wasn't his girlfriend, _was she?_ He scratched his head again. Jess was his girlfriend. It was too hard to call anyone else that. It would mean he got over Jess, and he didn't. Not really. Not yet.

And besides, he still kept in touch with Sara. He really liked her, and Dean liked her, too. Lynn was… It was only supposed to be for a few days, just until they left town, but they've stayed here for so long already… _He had a girlfriend. Huh._ That still left the question of was it a good thing or not. And how he was going to break it to her that as soon as Dean got better, this town would be so far in their rear view mirror they won't even remember it was even there… _He had a girlfriend._ He still wasn't really sure how that happened.

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It appeared Lynn was right. Dean woke up sometime after noon the next day, his fever practically gone. He was starving and the two of them ate the entire right side of the Italian takeout menu. Dean was irritating again, ordering Sam around, making stupid jokes and complaining a lot – a sure sign that he was feeling a hell of a lot better.

"Hey Sammy?"

"It's SAM!" Sam snapped, for the umpth time.

"Yeah, whatever." Dean shrugged, coughing. "Think you can get me another pillow? Or would you just try to exorcise it?" Dean smirked devilishly and Sam groaned. That was the fifth pillow joke that day. He was happy Dean was feeling better. He really was, because that meant Sam could finally just kill him! _Hmm, strangling him with a pillow…poetic justice…_

"You're never going to let it go, are you?" Sam asked, tossing a pillow at his brother.

"Hell, no!" Dean smirked, shoving the pillow under his head and flicking channels on the TV.

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"Hello?" Sam muttered sleepily, quickly wiping the drool from his face and trying to focus his eyes on the small digital alarm clock by the bed. _Five past six in the morning? Who the hell could be calling this freaking early?_

"Dean?" _Of course. Dad._ And this is Dean's phone. Sam grunted, sneaking a peek at his sleeping brother. For the slightest of moments, he thought to wake Dean up and go back to sleep. This was Dean's phone, after all. But on second thought, Dean's been miserable enough this past week, and he did have this terrible nightmare. Sam might as well let him sleep.

"No, dad, it's me." Sam said sleepily, smothering a yawn.

"Sammy." John said, and Sam could swear there was disappointment in his voice. "How are you boys doing?" John asked.

"Well, we _were_ sleeping peacefully." Sam started, that is, until he remembered who it was he was talking to. "I mean, we're fine, sir." He amended quickly.

"Your brother feeling better?" John asked. Sam glanced at Dean, who kicked his covers off the bed. Again. He had been tossing and turning all night, coughing and sneezing, and that was when he wasn't having those nightmares. Still, it was obvious he was doing his best not to wake Sam up. As if Sam was really sleeping.

"Yes, sir." Sam said, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his unruly hair.

"Good." John said, "Good." He repeated a moment later, and Sam wondered what he was doing calling so early just to ask that. "I… I have a job for you boys." _Of course. Good old dad. Calling to check up on us just to make sure we're all fine and well before he sends us to our possible death. You know, make sure we're okay so that we'd have at least a couple of seconds before Beastie kills us. How nice of him_, Sam thought bitterly.

"Sam? You still there?"

"Yes, sir." Sam answered, and then swallowed, getting off the bed and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and hoping it would be enough to block out all the yelling.

"A friend of mine called me the other day. There's a spirit in Galehaven that needs taking care of. It's been giving these people a really hard time…"

"No." Sam said, closing the toilet lid and sitting down.

"Excuse me?" Sam swallowed.

"You heard me. We're not going hunting. Not now." Sam said assertively.

"Sammy,"

"No, dad. No way. Dean's been sick, really sick, and he's just getting better. We're not going hunting until he's all better." Sam said, "Why won't you do it, if it's so important?" Sam demanded. John let out a long breath, and Sam swallowed again, preparing for his father's wrath.

"I think I know where the Demon's gonna attack next." John said instead, catching Sam off guard. "I'm already on my way, I can't waste any time chasing a spirit." Sam sucked in his breath.

"The Demon?" he asked, "Where?" but got no answer. "Dad, you've got to let us come! We can help you…"

"No!" John cut him off quickly, in a tone of voice that clearly said 'don't mess with me on this one'."

"But dad…"

"I said no, Sammy!"

"Why not?" Sam asked, knowing he probably sounded like a little boy, but not really caring. He had a score to settle with this Demon, much so now, after all that happened the last time. This was personal. He wanted this, almost as much as his father did.

"You said it yourself, Sammy, your brother's not feeling all too well. I can't risk it." John answered and Sam snorted.

"Never stopped you before." He noted.

"Sam!" there was a hint of warning in John's voice, but Sam didn't care.

"Dad, we need to do this together, we need to put this behind us, all of us!"

"Out of the question, Samuel! I don't want you boys anywhere near that thing this time, you hear me!" John demanded.

"But dad…"

"No buts, Sam! That's an order!" John barked, "Besides, I need you guys to take care of that spirit."

"You do it." Sam said, "If it's so important, you go after the spirit. We'll go after the Demon." Sam said. He could practically hear his father grinding his teeth in anger.

"Sam…" John said impatiently, "It's about a five hour drive from where you are. I'll text you the coordinates. I want you boys there tomorrow, at the latest, you hear me?"

"No!" Sam insisted. "Dad," Sam exhaled loudly, shaking his head. "Dad, I think there's something Dean's not telling us. I think there's something wrong with him." There was a long pause before John spoke.

"Yeah, me too, Sam. But your brother is strong. If anyone can bounce back, it's him." He said, trying to sound reassuring. Sam sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He was less than convinced. It seemed like John has picked up on Sam's hesitation. "It's just a simple salt and burn, Sammy. You really don't think he's up to it? You really think it's that bad?" John asked. Sam hesitated. He wasn't sure, but he was more than grateful to hear concern in his father's voice.

"No," Sam said finally. "It's just… He's always tired. Always. And there's this thing with the painkillers… It's been months, dad, and he's still using prescription meds."

"And you think he has a problem?" John asked in a small voice. It has happened before, twice. The first time was back when the boys were kids, when John started going on longer and longer hunts. The second time was just after Sam left for school. Dean had been miserable for weeks, until he suddenly started acting weird. That's when John found out about the drugs. John just counted his blessings that both times he had found out before it became a real problem.

"No," Sam said quickly, "at least, I don't think so. I mean, I checked a couple of times, the bottle is mostly full. I don't think he's addicted or anything, but still… I don't know, dad, I don't like it."

"Look, Sammy," John sighed, "you boys take care of that spirit, and I'll do my best to take care of the Demon once and for all. And then we'll get together, alright? The three of us, we'll stick together for a while, take care of your brother. Take a little break from… everything. What do you say?" Sam smiled a small smile. That sounded so good in theory. He knew though, the chances of finding intelligent life on a Mars bar were better than the chance that was ever going to happen.

"Yeah, that sounds good." Sam said, scratching his bristled cheek, "I really think he needs a break…"

"Jeez, it was just a cold, Sam." Sam jumped, startled when the bathroom door suddenly opened and Dean stepped in.

"Dean…"

"That my phone?" Dean asked, grabbing it from Sam. "Hello?"

"Dean," John said, suddenly feeling a lump in his throat.

"Oh. Hi, dad." Dean said, less than enthusiastically.

"How are you feeling, son?" John asked.

"I'll feel better once Sam gets out of the bathroom." Dean said. "And I'm fine." He added stubbornly. "You got a job for us?"

"It can wait." John hesitated, "I mean, if you're not up to it…"

"Who says I'm not up to it?" Dean asked irritably, glaring at Sam, "Sam just doesn't want to leave here 'cause he's finally getting some action." He said, smirking at the horrified look on Sam's face.

"So… you're okay?" John asked, making sure.

"I'm always okay. What's the job?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Quit it!" Dean said irritably, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. Sam averted his eyes, looking out the window at the quickly changing scenery. _What was going on between Dean and their dad? It couldn't be just that night at the cabin, they spoke after that. Dean seemed fine_…

"I said quit it, Sam!" Dean spat, and Sam quickly averted his eyes again. He didn't even realize he kept staring at Dean, but he couldn't help it. He was going to find out what's wrong with… "Seriously, dude, if you don't stop with the staring, I'm pulling over and making you walk!" Dean snapped. Sam offered a small smile, but Dean's eyes were intent on the road ahead. His jaw was set, his body tense. Sam wasn't sure if that was the result of the phone call or of Sam's unintentional staring. It always did get on Dean's nerves when Sam would just sit and stare at him. It was one of the best ways to get what he wanted as a kid.

Sam averted his eyes again, but there wasn't much to look at. He opened his notebook, rereading their dad's instructions, and found himself reading the same line over and over again. It's funny, he couldn't concentrate on what he was reading without loud music blaring in the background. _How's that for ironic?_ He frowned. _Why wasn't Dean listening to the CDs he bought him?_

"Alright, Sam, that it!" Dean veered the car over to the side so quickly that Sam had hit his head on the window, before slamming on the breaks so hard it made Sam wince at the contact with the seatbelt.

"Ow!" Sam bit out accusingly.

"Out!" Dean said angrily, not looking at Sam.

"Dean!"

"I warned you, Sammy, you're walking from here!"

"Oh, come on, Dean, you can't be serious!" Sam shrieked. Dean's only answer was to lean over Sam and open the passenger side door, glaring at Sam expectantly. "Come on, man, I didn't mean it! Look, I'm sorry, alright? I won't do it again." Sam said quickly.

"Out, Sam!"

"Fine, fine, I get the message. No more staring. Got it." Sam said, but Dean just crossed his hands over his chest. "Dean… Dude, you're not really gonna make me walk, so you can drop the badass attitude, okay?" Dean narrowed his eyes, starting the car again. Sam breathed in relief. In all honesty, he really thought Dean was going to make him walk.

"You're doing it again!" Dean said through gritted teeth.

"Dean, we need to talk." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Fine, keep staring, freak." He said, bringing the car back on the road. Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head. If there was ever a catastrophic nuclear accident that wiped out all life on earth, all that would survive would be cockroaches, and Dean Winchester – just to prove that he was more stubborn than death itself. "Would you just take a picture? It'll last longer!" Dean muttered through gritted teeth. Sam sighed, looking away. On second thought, he turned the radio on. "Sam!"

"All right, all right…" and Sam looked away again.

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"Just coffee?"

"Dude, what's your problem?"

"My… Dean, you haven't eaten all day, and you order just coffee? Decaf?" Sam asked incredulously.

"I'm not hungry." Dean said, toying with the salt shaker. Sam snorted.

"You? Not hungry?"

"Yeah, Sam! I'm not hungry!" Dean snapped. Sam blinked a couple of times.

"But… decaf? Seriously?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Better than that mocha-latte-chai-chick thing you're having." Dean shrugged.

"But… decaf?" Dean rolled his eyes, sipping from his coffee. He did his best not to grimace at the taste. _Decaf? What the hell was he thinking?_ And then his chest constricted again. _Oh, yeah. That_. Decaf. Well, not gonna happen again, he'd rather die than have to drink this disgusting excuse for coffee again. "So… how is it?" Sam asked, sipping his own coffee.

"It's…" _Disgusting? Revolting? Poor excuse for coffee? An insult to coffee everywhere?_ "Okay." Dean said, and Sam snorted.

"Yeah, I can see how much you like it."

"Bite me." Dean muttered, taking another, cautious sip of his coffee. He tried his best to warn his taste buds to shut down. Unfortunately, they didn't listen to him. _Damn, that thing was nasty. And did Sam have to snigger?_ "Shut up!"

Sam took a bite out of his turkey sandwich, looking at his older brother in amusement. "You sure you don't won't anything to eat?" he asked.

"Yeah, Samantha. And would you stop with the staring? Dude, you got a crush on me or something?" Sam nearly choked on his sandwich. "I mean, I know I'm hot, and the other day, you did strip me…"

"Wh- I was getting you in the shower! You had a fever of 105!" Sam sputtered.

"Uh huh." Dean raised a brow, leaning forward. "Let's just get things straight, little brother, no pun intended," Dean smirked. "This handsome devil is into chicks. And, though, you do act like one most the time, it's the body parts that count in this case." Sam glared at his smug older brother.

"You're sick." He said, "Seriously, you need therapy." Sam muttered, making Dean smirk as he leaned back in his seat. A smile spread on Sam's lips as he imagined Dean in group therapy. Oh, yes, that attracted more then a few looks from the other patrons of the diner, since Sam just couldn't control his giggles at the thought of Dean, sitting in a circle, holding hands and talking about his feelings.

"Dude, what's wrong with you?" Dean was shaking his head, "I can't take you anywhere!"

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"So, what are we going to do now?" Sam asked as they left the diner. He had gotten them both a couple of sandwiches to go, just in case. After all, that turkey sandwich was one of the best he's ever had. It even had fresh vegetables in it. Real vegetables. The kind that actually had some vitamins in them. He decided Dean didn't need to know that part about the sandwiches, though. Dean glanced at him over the roof of the car as he unlocked it.

"We could go scout the house, see what we're dealing with." He suggested. There were still a few hours of daylight, and the weather was getting warmer, though it was still freezing in the evenings. Sam opened the passenger side door, wondering if Dean would ever get used to having a remote for the car.

"Nah, I don't think so. I want to know what we're getting into before we actually, you know, get into it." He said. Dean made a face.

"Hey, if we went on a hunt actually knowing all the facts and completely prepared, it just wouldn't be fun, now would it?" he asked sarcastically, making Sam smile.

"Smartass." He huffed, and Dean smirked as he started the engine. "So… Why won't you get us a room, scope out the area, and I'll hit the library?" Sam offered. "And no going to that place without me!" he added quickly. Dean glanced at him, quickly returning his eyes to the road, covering his mouth as he coughed. He nodded lightly.

"Yeah, alright. Go work your geeky charm, make all those sexy microfiche drool all over you, leave the real work to me." Dean smirked, checking to see Sam's reaction. It didn't take long. Sam punched him on the arm.

"Jackass."

"Google-lover." Dean shot back.

TBC

A/N: Reviews make the world go 'roung. Plus, they also make me write faster... Please review!


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Sam returned to the motel room three hours later, casting a quick glance at his older brother as he took his jacket off, tossing it onto his bed. Dean was sitting on his own bed, back propped up against the headboard. He seemed completely engrossed in whatever he was doing on the laptop, but Sam knew better. He slumped down on his own bed, clearing his throat to alert Dean's attention. Dean spared him a quick glance before his eyes went back to the screen.

"So, it looks like just a simple salt and burn to me," Sam said, "just like dad said. We could get the records tomorrow, see where she's buried, buy some more lighter fluid and finish the job." He finished, looking at Dean, who was completely absorbed in the laptop in front of him. Sam couldn't help but wonder if he'd already broken his own record playing pinball on that thing. "Dean? Earth to Dean?"

"Huh?" Dean looked up at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

"I said I didn't find anything." Sam said.

"Oh." Dean said, stretching, massaging his aching neck.

"Looks like a simple salt and burn." Sam repeated. Dean nodded lightly.

"How far back did you look?" he asked.

"About twenty years. That's how far the library records go." Sam answered. Dean nodded again.

"Well," he put the laptop aside, grabbing a notebook that was sitting beside him, dropped his feet to the carpeted floor and faced the younger hunter. "This one's from '97." He said, handing Sam a piece of paper, "And that's from '83, so you're not looking all that hard, are you, Sam?" he asked as Sam skimmed through both articles.

"Shit." Sam muttered.

"Oh, it gets better." Dean noted, "'81, '74, '67, '63, '51, '42…" Dean kept pulling articles from his notebook, handing them over to Sam. "Last one I found was 1827." He said.

"Wonderful." Sam said with a sour face.

"Yep." Sam sighed.

"Well, anything in these that would actually help us?" he asked.

"That's your job, I'm beat. I'm gonna go out for a while, want me to get you anything?" Dean offered.

"Where're you going?" Sam asked.

"I dunno, just need to be out of this room."

"Bring some food, would you?" Sam asked, "And Dean," he stopped the older hunter just as he was about to leave, "vending machine stuff doesn't count." Dean flashed him a wicked smile and got out of the room.

* * *

"What's this?" Sam asked at the Doritos bag that made its way to his lap. 

"It's food." Dean said, putting a brown paper bag on the small table and shrugging his jacket off, failing to smother a cough.

"Dean, I thought I said I didn't want anything from a vending machine!" Sam snapped. Dean gave him that annoying innocent look that only managed to get on Sam's nerves.

"What? It's not from a vending machine, it's from the gas station." He smirked, "You didn't say anything about food from the gas station…" he said innocently and Sam glowered at him. "Relax, would you, I swear, Sammy, keep doing that and you'll end up with gray hair by the time you're thirty." Dean said, taking the paper bag and bringing it over to Sam. "I got back to that diner, I got you your precious turkey sandwich, extra greens, and a girly salad. It's got croutons or whatever." Dean finished giving the bag to Sam, who looked sheepish, his mouth in an 'o' shape.

Sam brought the bag back to the table, taking a seat, and started taking all the food out of the bag as Dean sat across from him.

"So, did you find anything?" Dean asked, reaching over for one of the four sandwiches he'd bought. Sam bit into his sandwich, shaking his head.

"No. Doesn't seem to be a pattern in the dates, and I couldn't find any lunar or other celestial cycles that would explain the gap between the attacks." Sam said with his mouth full, and then reached for a can of… _soda? Hmm. He actually wanted some beer. Well, if Dean can stop drinking, so could he. Hell, maybe Dean really needed some support. He has been drinking beer since he was seventeen…_

"Uh, Sam, that's mine. I brought you beer. I can get you a soda from the machine outside if you want…" Dean suggested, taking the can away from him and giving him the bottle of beer, which he took quickly.

"No. No, that's fine. Thanks. For the beer, I mean. And the food. Um… anyway…"

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You're babbling."

"Right." Sam nodded, taking a long swig from his beer.

"So, no clues as to why now? What this spirit wants, why is it so active all of a sudden?" Dean asked, raising his brow.

"Uh… No. Not that I could figure out." Sam said. Dean made a face.

"I guess we'll just have to go talk to the family. Dad tell you where they're staying or are they still on that farm?" Dean asked.

"No, they checked into a hotel. With everything that happened, I don't really blame them." Sam said, taking another bite of his sandwich. "We could go first thing tomorrow morning." He suggested. Dean gave a slight nod, rewrapping what was left of his sandwich. Sam stared at him. _Dean was rewrapping a sandwich? Dean didn't _finish_ a sandwich? And hell was about to freeze, when, exactly?_

"I'm gonna take a shower and hit the sack." Dean said as he got up from his seat. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing." Sam said quickly, resuming his chewing.

"You're doing it again!" Dean said irritably.

"Doing what?" Sam asked.

"The staring thing." Dean said, "Look, if you got something to say to me, say it. Don't drive me crazy with the staring, alright? 'Cause little brother or not, keep it up, and I'll put something really nasty in your coffee." He threatened as he walked over to the bathroom.

"Oh, yeah? Like what? Make it decaf?" Sam just couldn't resist.

"With the stuff you drink? Decaf would be a step up!" Dean shot back.

* * *

"So, that was helpful." Dean said sarcastically as he got in the car. Sam offered him a smile. 

"At least we know what kind of things this spirit likes to do." He offered, realizing as the words came out of his mouth how stupid they sounded. His brother's look confirmed it. "Sorry." He added sheepishly.

"Okay," Dean took a deep breath, "So… I'll go look at the county records, try to figure out where she's buried." Dean said. Sam gave a slight nod.

"Yeah, I'll go over dad's journal again, see what rituals we can use in case there's nothing left to burn." Sam offered. Dean tilted his head to the side.

"Hey, we could always just torch the farm." He said jokingly, smirking at Sam.

"Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"For the record," Sam started, glancing at his brother, "I don't like this." Dean spared him a quick glance. "I mean, she likes to scare people to death? Like, literally scare people to death?" Dean made a face, shrugging.

"Gonna take a helluva lot of work for that spirit to scare us, Sammy boy." He said cockily. Sam was less than confident about that. Right now, it really wouldn't take all that much. There was one thing that kept him up at night, that scared the crap out of him, and it had nothing to do with his powers, with his nightmares or his visions. It actually had a lot to do with the man sitting next to him.

Biting his nails, Sam leaned his head against the passenger side window, staring at the squiggly lines the fat raindrops were making on the window, his mind wandering. It had been raining pretty heavily down here for the past few days, and with Dean just getting over a serious cold… He wished that, for once, it would be just a simple hunt, with no complications. _It wasn't too much to ask, was it?_

* * *

_Sam's heart was beating fast, sweat was trickling down his face and back, his breath was coming out in quick gasps. He swallowed, straining his ears as he held up his gun, but he couldn't hear anything. Just a moment ago, Dean was screaming for help, and now there was silence. Sam preferred the screaming._

_He wiped his brow with his arm, kicking the door open with a wild cry and rushing into the room._

_The dark room._

_The room was so dark he couldn't see a thing. "Dean?" Sam cried warily, trying to adjust to the darkness inside the room. He squinted his eyes, gun drawn and ready, doing his best to try and sense any danger._

_Slowly, he was able to discern shapes. Furniture. He wrinkled his brow. There was something familiar about this place, about this room, and it scared him._

_"Dean?" he cried out again, looking around the all too familiar room. His heartbeat quickened. His mouth felt dry. He recognized this place. Clenching his jaw, Sam considered reaching for the light switch, but he quickly dismissed the thought. Familiar or not, something could still be in here. Something _was_ here, he could feel it. He moved over to the bed. There was a dark stain on it. A large dark stain. Sam frowned, tilting his head to the side as he grew nearer. And then realization hit him and he sucked in his breath. His heart pounding hard against his chest, Sam slowly raised his eyes towards the ceiling. _Please no, please no, please don't be there_… A cry escaped his lips as he stumbled back and Lynn's body erupted in flames._

_"_Why did you leave me, Sam?_" she asked, accusing, without moving her lips, _"Why didn't you protect me?_" and then a wall of flame raced his way. He quickly raised his arms to protect himself and felt something hard hit his face and front._

He blinked, grunting in pain, and pushed himself off the floor, breathing hard, untangling himself from his blankets. _A nightmare. Thank God_. Only it didn't feel like a dream. It was a vision, he just knew it was. He had to go back for Lynn, he had to save her.

"Dean?" Sam breathed as he pushed himself to his feet, swaying a little. He pressed his hand to his temple, feeling the beginning of a headache. _Wonderful. He always did like that little treat_. "Dean?" Sam asked again, sitting heavily on his bed and looking over at his brother's bed. His brother's _empty_ bed. Shit. "Dean!" Sam cried out, quickly jumping to his feet. He checked the bathroom, but Dean wasn't there. _Shit, shit, shit_. "Dean!" the vanishing brother act was getting old really quick. _Okay, no reason to panic. So he's not here. Doesn't mean he went off to hunt this thing without me. Could be a million reasons_, Sam rationalized as he quickly put on his shoes. _He could have gone for a walk, or to get something to drink, he does have that caffeine addiction_… Sam quickly put a coat on, noticing all of Dean's things were still there. _Good_, he thought with palpable relief.

For a moment, Sam considered calling Dean's cell, but he quickly dismissed it. For one, it would look really stupid if Dean had just gone out for a cup of coffee or a soda. And two, Dean's cell sat on the table, right next to Sam's. No point in calling, then.

Sam got out of the motel room, tightening the coat around himself and frowning at the rain. It was just a light drizzle, or so the weatherman had promised. Light drizzle or not, it still managed to get Sam all wet. He searched the parking lot with his eyes, doing his best to keep away from the annoying little drops. He breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed the car. And there seemed to be someone in it.

Sam hesitated for a slight second before he started running for the car. He cursed loudly as he stepped in a deep puddle, succeeding in completely soaking his left foot. He really hated that squishy sound. Oh, and the wetness in his shoe wasn't one of his all time best feelings, either. But there was someone in the car. He could see it clearly now, even in the dark.

Sam knocked on the driver's side door. He could hear the music blaring in the car loud and clear. Rolling his eyes, he knocked harder, this time using his fist, but Dean still seemed very much asleep. Grimacing, Sam walked over to the passenger side, cursing again as he stepped in yet another deep puddle. He opened the car door, climbed inside, and slammed the door shut, effectively waking Dean up with a start.

"Dude! What the hell? You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Dean snapped, exhaling loudly.

"Sorry," Sam said, turning the volume down. "I knocked first. What the hell are you doing out here in the rain?" he asked. Dean blinked a couple of times, scratching his head. "Dean?"

"I…" he covered his mouth with his fist as he yawned, "I just felt like going for a drive." He said sleepily.

"Uh huh." Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking skeptically at his older brother.

"I did!" Dean said defensively, "I drove around for a while, until I got tired, and then I was going to go back, but there was this awesome song playing…" Dean said quickly. Sam raised a brow.

"Oh, really?" he asked.

"Yes." Dean said, doing his best to keep his eyes open. His medication always made him sleepy, and this time, he just didn't seem to be able to fight it.

"And you just happened to park the car at the same place, even when there are other spots, closer to our room?" Sam questioned.

"Man, what's your problem?" Dean snapped, "What are you doing out here anyway?" Sam shook his head, staring out the window at the rain.

"I had another dream." He said quietly, keeping his eyes on the darkness outside.

"Yeah? Did it have hot supermodels and a giant hot tub in it? 'Cause mine did…" Dean smirked. He sighed loudly at the look on Sam's face. "One of _those_ dreams?" Sam nodded. "Oh, great." Dean ran his fingers through his short hair. "So…"

"It's the Demon." Sam said in a small voice.

"Of course it is." Dean said dryly, closing his eyes.

"It's going to go after Lynn. We have to get back." Sam finished. At that, Dean's eyes snapped open.

"Wait, what? Go back?" he shook his head. "No, Sam. We're not going back there." Dean said assertively.

"We have to, Dean. What if we don't and Lynn ends up on the ceiling? Could you live with yourself if that happens?" Sam demanded. Dean shook his head.

"The Demon was already there," Dean said, "why would it come back?" he demanded. It was Sam's turn to shake his head, pursing his lips.

"I don't know, Dean. Maybe it never left!" he cried, "Maybe it's a trap, maybe it's waiting for us. Or maybe… I don't know, maybe it just wants to kill Lynn to get her out of the way. Like it killed Jess and Mom." Dean shook his head, staring out the windshield.

"We're not going back, Sam." He said in a small voice.

"I had another vision, Dean, the third one! I can't just ignore that! I can't just let Lynn die!" Sam cried. Dean glanced at him.

"We have a job to do." He said, "We talked to that family, we promised them we'd take care of that spirit, Sam. We promised them they won't lose anyone else, we can't just leave them!" Dean demanded, "What if we leave and someone else dies here, huh, Sam?" Sam bit his lip, running his hand through his hair and crying out in frustration.

"We have to finish this job, Sam. You know it. Besides, your visions have been screwy lately, you said so yourself." Dean said, and Sam noticed he was starting to shiver, even with the air conditioning on.

"I can't just ignore it, Dean." Sam said, "It's just like with Jess. I can't let her die. Not like that."

"We have to finish this first." Dean stopped him. "I mean, if it's really like Jess… You said you had visions for weeks before she died, right?" Sam pursed his lips, looking out at the rain. Dean took it as a yes. "So we have time." He went on. "We do this job, we get rid of this spirit. And then we'll look for the signs. If there are signs that the Demon is really there, we'll… We'll call dad. We'll go there ready, Sam."

"Dean…"

"So, what? You'll rush in there, get yourself killed? You don't even have the Colt, Sam, what good would that do?" Dean cut him off. Sam nodded lightly. Dean was right. He couldn't kill this Demon alone.

"You're right." Sam said finally. "We finish this hunt, but then we're going back." He added. Dean stared at him for a moment, and then looked away, saying nothing. "I just… I hate having to see this. I hate seeing her on the ceiling, and the flames…"

"I know." Dean murmured.

"So, are we going to get back in the room, or just sit here till morning?" Sam asked.

"Sam?" Sam stopped as he opened the door, turning to look back at his older brother. Dean hesitated. It looked like he had something important to say, something he was having trouble saying. He wouldn't even look at Sam.

"What is it?" Sam asked, studying his brother carefully. Dean seemed exhausted, but what else was new. Dean's brow creased as he spared a moment to look at his brother.

"Nothing." Dean said, shaking his head and getting out of the car. Sam noticed he was swaying a little bit as he walked back towards the motel room. He doubted it was just cramped muscles, like Dean had said. No, Dean was hiding something. There was no way he went out for a drive and just fell asleep in the car. And suddenly, Sam wondered which part of his vision was the one to come true.

TBC

A/N: If you haven't already done so, keep an eye out for Historylover's story, 'Crossed Paths', which I help co-write. Hope you enjoy that story, too. Please review! (Would it help if I said pretty please?)


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Sam carefully balanced the two cups of hot coffee in one hand, holding the small bag of danishes in the other, along with the room keys. Dean startled awake, his hand reaching for the knife he kept under his pillow.

"Morning." Sam said, putting the breakfast on the table. Dean made a little discontent sound, pushing himself off the bed.

"Does it have to be?" he grumbled.

"I brought you coffee." Sam said, smiling, as Dean just sat on his bed, trying to collect himself. Dean shook his head and bee-lined into the bathroom. Soon after, Sam could hear the water running in the shower. "So, I was thinking," Sam said out loud as he took out one of the danishes, "Did you find the grave? The ground's soaked from all the rain, shouldn't be all too hard to dig it up." He took a large bite out of the danish, waiting for Dean to reply. He waited a long time. "Dean?" Sam cried out again.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened and Dean got out, clad in a towel. Sam smiled at him as he slowly started to get dressed. "So, what do you think?" Sam asked.

"About what?"

"Did you find out where she's buried?" Sam asked again, and Dean scowled.

"Sam, I already told you, no shop-talk before coffee, unless there's immediate danger!" Dean growled, making Sam grin. Sam handed him his cup of coffee as Dean sat back down on his bed, taking a long swig.

"So, did you?" Sam asked a second later. Dean raised a brow.

"You're like a puppy with a bone, you know that?" he asked, and Sam glared at him. Dean ran a hand over his face. "No, I didn't find out where she was buried. Records don't go all the way back to the 1800's." He said in a sleepy voice. "So, I was thinking," Dean said a second later, "How about a day off?" Sam blinked, and then started laughing.

"Ahh… That's a good one." he said, still laughing, "Thanks, I needed that." Dean gave a quick smile, looking away from Sam. _It almost looked as if he were…_ "You're not serious, are you?" Sam cried.

"Pff! Nah." Dean said, very unconvincingly.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed. But Dean just took another sip from his coffee, turning away from Sam. "Dean, we're not taking a day off!" Sam cried, getting to his feet.

"I know." Dean murmured, his back still turned to Sam, and for a moment, something in Sam's gut screamed at him that something was going to go wrong. And then Dean turned, smirking. "Made you look." He said, and Sam narrowed his eyes.

"Jerk!"

"Pillow-phobic." Dean shot back. He walked over to the weapons duffle, hoisting it up onto Sam's bed, and started checking the sawed off shotguns and the rock salt supply. Sam went over to help him, noticing Dean was being quiet. Too quiet. And the annoying feeling he had in the pit of his stomach only intensified.

* * *

Sam winced, rubbing his head and glaring at Dean. "You did that on purpose!" he accused. Dean didn't even bother looking at him. 

"Yeah, well, if we'd still had the Impala I wouldn't have to try and maneuver this piece of crap!" he muttered.

"It's a perfectly good car, Dean." Sam noted, "You're just cranky because I ate the blueberry danish." He said, and Dean muttered something incoherent under his breath, stopping the car at the back of the house. "I told you we should have just come from the front driveway." Sam said as he undid his seat belt. "No one's here anyway, and the Jeffersons said we could go in. We even have the keys." Sam continued as he got out of the car and buried his entire right foot in thick mud. He cursed. Dean smirked at him.

"Now, _that_ was for the blueberry danish." He said mischievously, going over to unlock the trunk.

"Asshole!" Sam huffed, "What, you're not worried I'll mess up your car?"

"It's _not_ my car." Dean said simply. "You _killed_ **my** car." He added in a small voice, and then punched Sam.

"Ow!"

"I _loved_ that car!" Dean muttered as he took out a shotgun, a handgun and some extra rounds, waddling through the thick mud towards the back door of the large farmhouse, all the while muttering under his breath. Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes, as he took out his own shotgun and the video camera, and closed the trunk. For all the bitching Dean was making about the car, he sure did like the little remote used to lock and unlock it.

Seeing the outside of the house relaxed Sam a little. It didn't look like the place from his vision. _Still, caution is always the best course of action_...

"Dean!" _Unless Dean was involved_. "Why the hell'd you do that?" he admonished. Dean looked questioningly at him. "We have the key…" Sam reminded him. Dean shrugged.

"It's open, isn't it?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"You're hopeless." He said, pushing past Dean and walking in. He stared disbelievingly at Dean, who made sure to carefully wipe his shoes before coming in. "You kick the door open, but you wipe your shoes before you get in?" he asked. Dean shrugged again.

"No reason bringing all that mud into the house." Dean said, walking past Sam and taking out the EMF meter. Sam's jaw dropped. Sometimes, he really couldn't understand his brother and his screwed up priorities. Dean let out a low whistle and Sam hurried over from the large kitchen.

"Did you find anything?" he asked.

"Dude, check this out." Dean said, pointing his chin at the pictures on the wall. Different family members at different rock concerts. "My kind of people." Dean smirked. "Aw, dude, wide screen TV! And check that out, an entire entertainment center! Just look at these speakers, man!" he said excitedly as he stepped into the main living area.

"Uh, Dean? The word ghost mean anything to you?" Sam asked dryly.

"Party pooper!" Dean muttered, taking a deep breath. "All right, so… big house, we should split up. What do you want, upstairs, downstairs or the basement?" he asked.

"I'll take the upstairs and the attic," Sam said, "That is, if it's safe to leave you here with the entertainment center." He raised a brow. Dean scowled, pounding his fist to his chest as if he'd been shot.

"I'm offended, Sam. Really. I'm a professional!" he said, and then smirked. "Ooh, you think they have some Black Sabbath CDs? With those speakers, man…"

"Dean!"

"Yeah, alright, alright…"

* * *

Sam climbed up the stairs, the soft carpeting muffling his footsteps. He switched the camera to night vision and started scanning the area for any activity, half expecting to hear some rock music blaring out of those speakers. _Those really impressive speakers_, Sam had to admit. He moved carefully through the rooms. The rooms themselves were carpeted, but there was hardwood floor in the hallways and the small living area. And another wide screen TV. _We should have charged for this gig_. Sam stopped at one of the rooms – the middle daughter's it seemed – in front of a giant bookcase. There were dozens of books there, most of which he had read. There were the classics, and horror stories, and even some books he'd actually used on occasion, concerning spirits. This girl was definitely into the supernatural. The whole room had a Goth theme to it, but in a tasteful way. There was even a… Sam neared it, just to be sure. _Damn! Okay, now he was starting to get jealous_. There was a broad sword, a real broad sword in a plastic showcase on the wall, along with some sacrificial daggers and athames, some in better condition than the ones in their own collection. 

And then he heard the shot. A single shot. And nothing more. No screams, no shouts, no things breaking against the wall. Just the resonating silence after the shot.

"Dean!" he cried, his heart racing a mile a minute as he ran back down the stairs. Dean was leaning against the basement door, looking wan and even a little green. His eyes were closed, his hand clutching the shotgun. "Dean, you okay?" Sam asked worriedly.

"We need to get out of here," Dean said through clenched teeth. "Now!" Sam gave a slight nod as the two quickly headed out the back door.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Sam asked, his stomach twisting. Dean didn't seem hurt, but he was walking a little stiffly, and he did seem more than a little off.

"No, I'm fine." He said, tossing the car keys to Sam. "You drive." _Sure, Dean. Way to prove that you're fine, _Sam thought bitterly as they entered the car and hightailed out of there as fast as the mud allowed.

* * *

Sam opened the car door, intending to help Dean out, only to be pushed away. 

"Dude, I'm not a cripple, and I'm not hurt, now get off me before I make you a cripple!" Dean cried exasperatedly.

"I'm just trying to help you," Sam offered, only to be shrugged off again. Dean got out of the car, successfully avoiding the large puddle that Sam had already stepped in. _Damn. A little justice, is it really that much to ask?_ Sam wondered, following his sibling with his eyes as Dean reached in his pocket, fishing out the keys.

Sam never thought he'd actually be glad to be back in that stuffy, smelly room, but at least it was warm, and the radiator was working. Sam slumped down on one of the chairs, taking his soggy shoes off along with his socks and wiggling his wet toes with a content moan. He caught the pair of dry sox Dean had tossed his way, giving him a small grin of gratitude.

Dean slumped down on his bed, laying back with his feet still on the floor, closing his eyes.

"So what's the plan?" Sam asked. Dean just grunted, making Sam even more sure that the spirit had attacked. The way Dean looked, it was probably quite successful. It wasn't often that he had seen Dean frightened, but he was pretty sure that Dean was more than a little frightened back in that house. "Dean?" Dean pushed himself up.

"I'm thinking Italian. Maybe Chinese. Though I could totally go for some steak and mashed potatoes…" Dean said, a far away look in his eyes.

"I'm being serious here, man."

"Me, too." Dean insisted. Sam sighed.

"Alright. You know what, I'll make you a deal, alright? You tell me what the hell happened back there and I'll go get you the best steak and potatoes I can find, and you won't even have to leave the room. How does that sound?" Sam sighed, his eyes following Dean as he got up from the bed and walked slowly towards the bathroom, filling himself a glass of water. Sam kept watching as Dean shuffled around his duffle, taking his pills out, and swallowing one, grimacing as he did.

"She did something to you, didn't she?" Sam got to his feet, towering over Dean, who went back over to his bed, "She attacked you? Made you see things?" Sam insisted, ignoring the irritated look from Dean. "Dean, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on, man." Sam murmured, sitting back down across from his brother.

"Sam, how many times do I have to tell you this? I'm fine! She didn't do anything to me!" Dean snapped at him. Sam snorted.

"Sure you are. That's why you just took a seriously strong painkiller? That's why you let me drive here?" Sam demanded.

"Hey, I don't care if you wrack _this_ car." Dean joked, trying unsuccessfully to hide a grimace, "Just don't do it with me _in_ the car this time." He added with a smirk, earning himself an angry glare. Dean sighed. "Sam, I'm fine, really. I told you, I shot her before she got close enough to do anything." Dean said for the tenth time since they left the Jefferson's house.

"Uh huh." Sam said skeptically.

"Look, I went down to look at the basement, dead chick was right at the bottom of the stairs looking way too pleased with herself, I shot her astral brains out with the rock salt and went back up to the main room. That's it. End of story." Sam tilted his head to the side. Good story. A lie, probably, but a good story. Didn't explain why Dean wanted to leave so badly, though, nor did it explain the driving and pain medication.

"Sam, I answered your freaking question, now stop with the staring and go steak hunting, like you promised!" Dean snapped at him. Sam was about to protest when his own stomach reminded him of how much it liked Dean's suggestion.

"Fine." He grunted. "But this is not over." He promised.

"Of course not. It's not over until the geek boy gets drunk and starts making Village People impersonations." Dean smirked. "Man, what I would have given for a camera back then…" he laughed.

"Shut up!"

"Ooh, and that time I took you to that karaoke place and you had too much to drink and ended up topless on the piano singing… Damn what was it? It's right on the tip of my tongue… Something by Elton John, what the hell was it?"

"You're some piece of work, you know that?" Dean smirked.

"Yeah. A masterpiece. Ain't no other like me."

"Thank God." Sam muttered as he quickly put his shoes on and went out the door, slamming it behind him. _And it wasn't an Elton John song, it was a Whitney Houston song!

* * *

_

Dean was out cold by the time Sam had come back with the food. Apparently, a restaurant a few blocks down offered a premium choice of meats, steaks included. Just the smell of that place made Sam's mouth water. He wasn't all that happy sitting at the bar, smelling that awesome smell as he waited for his order to arrive. _Man, he sure was hungry_. Sam figured, with Dean being out cold and all, he wouldn't mind if Sam went ahead and ate without him. He just couldn't help it.

But before he did, Sam walked over to Dean's bed, sitting down next to his sleeping sibling, watching the rise and fall of Dean's chest. _You're going to tell me what's wrong if I have to beat it out of you!_ Sam promised, exhaling loudly. He pulled Dean to a semi-sitting position, taking off his dirty over-shirt, and wrapping his brother in the thick comforter, letting Dean rest. By the look of him, Dean needed it. Even in his sleep, his brother's brow was creased in discomfort, reinforcing Sam decision to figure out what's wrong, and soon.

Sam sighed in content. The smell wasn't the only thing wonderful about that steak. He patted his stomach, feeling the tag of sleep washing over him. What the hell, it didn't seem like Dean was going to wake up anytime soon, he might as well go to sleep. That way they could finish the job at night and not be dead on their feet.

* * *

It was starting to get dark by the time Dean opened a sleepy eye, let out a throaty groan, turned in bed and tried to get back to sleep. Tried being the operative word. 

"Hey, you're awake." Sam cried in an extremely annoying cheerful voice. Dean buried his head under his pillow, only to have it cruelly snatched away from him. "Those pills really knock you out, don't they?" Sam chirped, making Dean fanaticize about throttling him. Hey, everything else went after Sam's throat, might as well be family.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You okay, man?" Dean asked, "I mean, you know I'm real proud of you, right?" Sam blinked, speechless, and started to stutter as Dean pushed himself to a sitting position, looking up at Sam. "Seriously, little brother. Facing your fear like that, to actually _hold_ a pillow, _my_ pillow… You're braver than I gave you credit for…" Dean finished. Sam glared at him, hitting him in the face with the pillow, which did nothing to help his bed head. Not that Dean really minded, no. Mission accomplished. He had his pillow back. _Nice, soft pillow_, he thought as he tucked it back under his head and tried to get back to sleep.

"So, I was thinking," Sam started again, cruelly snatching Dean's pillow from under his head, again. Dean grunted.

"You thinking is never a good thing!" he protested, earning another glare from his little brother.

"We should change our tactic tonight." Sam said. Dean scratched his head, blinking a couple of times.

"We should?" he frowned, "What, like, go to a bar, drink, stay out all night kind of change?" he asked, a little confused. Sam made a face.

"No, I'm talking about the gig. I'm thinking we should go at it differently this time." He explained. Dean gave a slight nod, still looking a little confused and rather sleepy.

"We should?" he asked, and then seemed to come to his senses. "Wait, you want to go out there again, tonight?" he asked. Sam shrugged.

"Yes." He said simply. "The sooner we get this job done, the sooner we can go back and warn Lynn." Sam said, checking the shotgun, making sure it was clean. "What?" he asked at the angry glare Dean was shooting him.

"Dude, why don't you just call the chick, tell her she's in trouble and end it?" Dean snapped, getting off the bed. "We're not going back to Armain, and we're not going back out to the house tonight, got it?" he demanded, stomping off to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him, leaving one flabbergasted Sam behind him.

"What? Dean!" Sam cried angrily. He walked over to the bathroom door, waiting for Dean to get out. He had to wait quite a while, which gave him time enough to rethink the past couple of minutes. _Okay, so, he probably went about the whole thing the wrong way. Dean _did_ say no shop talk before coffee, and he probably wasn't entirely awake when Sam started poking at him, but then again, he'd been sleeping for _ages_! And why is he so adamant about not going back? What, does he think I'll leave him for Lynn? That I'd want to stay with her and leave him? Nah, no way he thinks that,_ Sam thought, hoped. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax, and went out to get his brother a cup of coffee.

TBC

A/N: a little sneak preview of the next chapter:

_"Dean…" Sam exhaled loudly, staring at the older hunter. He shook his head lightly. "What aren't you telling me?" he demanded again, though he tried to keep his voice as supportive as possible. Dean shook his head, biting his lower lip, and turned away from Sam again._

_"Don't ask me that, Sam." He said in a small voice._

_"DEAN!" Sam was tired of waiting, tired of excuses. It was time for answers. Dean whirled around, looking irritably at him._

_"Fine, dude, you brought it on yourself." Dean hissed through gritted teeth and clenched fists… _

Oh, yes. It's time to get Dean to talk. You want more? Reviews are a wonderful way to tell me that ;)


	18. Chapter 17

Last time, on 'I Wanna Know Why':

_"We should change our tactic tonight." Sam said. Dean scratched his head, blinking a couple of times._

_"We should?" he frowned, "What, like, go to a bar, drink, stay out all night kind of change?" he asked, a little confused. Sam made a face._

_"No, I'm talking about the gig. I'm thinking we should go at it differently this time." He explained. Dean gave a slight nod, still looking a little confused and rather sleepy._

_"We should?" he asked, and then seemed to come to his senses. "Wait, you want to go out there again, tonight?" he asked. Sam shrugged._

_"Yes." He said simply. "The sooner we get this job done, the sooner we can go back and warn Lynn." Sam said, checking the shotgun, making sure it was clean. "What?" he asked at the angry glare Dean was shooting him._

_"Dude, why don't you just call the chick, tell her she's in trouble and end it?" Dean snapped, getting off the bed. "We're not going back there, and we're not going back out to the house tonight, got it?" he demanded, stomping off to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him, leaving one flabbergasted Sam behind him._

_"What? Dean!" Sam cried angrily. He walked over to the bathroom door, waiting for Dean to get out. He had to wait quite a while, which gave him time enough to rethink the past_ _couple of minutes._ Okay, so, he probably went about the whole thing the wrong way. Dean did say no shop talk before coffee, and he probably wasn't entirely awake when Sam started poking at him, but then again, he'd been sleeping for ages! And why is he so adamant about not going back? What, does he think I'll leave him for Lynn? That I'd want to stay with her and leave him? Nah, no way he thinks that, _Sam thought, hoped. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax, and went out to get his brother a cup of coffee.

* * *

_

Chapter Seventeen

Dean raised a brow.

"Coffee." Sam offered. Dean's lip quirked upwards.

"Thanks." He said, taking the offered cup and taking a big swig.

"I brought lunch, too. It's cold now, though. Steak, potatoes and some broccoli. It's really good, man, you should have it." Sam added. Dean stared at him for a long moment, before giving him a little nod. Sam smiled, pointing the food out to him and Dean walked over to the table, sitting down. Sam sat down across from him.

"Dean, you know there's no way I'm going to stay with Lynn, right? I mean, sure, I like her, but it's not like that, man. I'm staying with you. You know that, right?" Sam asked, gauging for Dean's reaction. Dean frowned, staring at him.

"Where'd that come from?" he asked. Sam suddenly felt like someone had turned up the heater. He readjusted his collar with his finger.

"I don't know, I was just thinking…" he stuttered. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Told you nothing good comes out from all that thinking, Sam. You'll just end up hurting yourself, giving yourself an aneurysm or something." Dean muttered, forking at his cold food. A cold steak didn't seem all that appetizing to him.

"So what is it? What's your problem with us going back there tonight, finish it?" Sam inquired. Dean suddenly seemed all kinds of uncomfortable.

"I just don't think it's a good idea, Sam." He said a moment later. Sam gave a small nod.

"I know what you think, but she did come after us in daylight. I don't think she'll get stronger at night, I mean she killed Mrs. Jefferson's father around noon…" his voice trailed off as he looked at Dean, still forking around his food, still not eating, still obviously tired and hiding something. "Look, this time we'll be better prepared. We know what she does, how she kills, we'll just… We won't separate this time." Sam said, "And we'll use charms and protection, we'll bring lots of salt…"

"Sam…" Dean tilted his head to the side, not looking his brother in the eye.

"Look, Dean…" Sam sighed, "I really need to finish this. I need to make sure Lynn's okay. I don't want to see her pinned to the ceiling. We can finish the gig, get some rest, be back on the road first thing tomorrow morning…"

"NO!" Dean said, pounding on the table. Sam gave him a startled, confused look. _Okay, there was definitely something Dean was keeping from him_. He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms, and was about to speak when Dean seemed to catch himself. Dean took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "We're not going to go out there like that just because you finally started thinking with your downstairs brain, Sam!" Dean said harshly. Sam's jaw nearly hit the floor.

"_What?_" he shrieked, his temper rising. _Did Dean really think he was _that_ selfish? That he just wanted to go back so he could sleep with Lynn? Did he really think that little of him?_ "Dean, we have to finish this job, we talked about it!" Sam cried angrily.

"And we will!" Dean reassured him, "Just not tonight." He said, a little calmer, "Maybe tomorrow." He added. Sam gasped, shocked. _Since when did Dean back out on a gig? What the hell was going on?_

"What the hell? Why not?" Sam demanded angrily, pinning Dean with his gaze. Dean wouldn't meet his eyes. He was fidgeting in his seat, practically squirming.

"Look, Sam, I just woke up. And I'm really not in the mood for cold food right now. Why won't we go get something to eat…" Dean said, trying to change the subject, trying to lessen the tension between them, but Sam was all too familiar with this tactic, and he was sick of it.

"Dean!" he demanded, that one word containing so much in it. Dean let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair, still refusing to meet Sam's eyes.

"Look," he said, looking extremely uncomfortable. "We'll get the job done, just not tonight, alright?" he added in a small voice. Sam narrowed his eyes.

"Why the hell not?" he demanded, "What is it with you? What did she do to you?" Sam pushed on, even though Dean seemed about as comfortable as a bug on a speeding windshield. Sam took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Talk to me, Dean." He implored, "You _know_ we have to end this quickly. You know I had another vision, and we have to…"

"Because I can't watch your back tonight, that's why!" Dean finally exploded. Sam stared at him in shock, which only made Dean look even smaller and more uncomfortable. He got up from his seat and started pacing the room. Sam frowned.

"What? Why?" he asked, trying to wrap his mind around the fact Dean might have just admitted a weakness. Sam walked over to Dean, gingerly putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Dean, what aren't you telling me?" Sam asked tentatively. Dean shrugged him off.

"Look, forget it, I'm just tired, okay?" _Man, getting Dean to confess something was more painful than pulling teeth_, Sam thought as Dean once again put a couple of feet between them, dodging him. _That's it. Sam wasn't taking it anymore. He was going to find out what's wrong, and he was going to find out NOW_.

"No! Not okay!" Sam exclaimed. "You're tired? Get some more coffee! Dean, if we don't do this tonight… If we don't get back soon, Lynn could die!" he said slowly, accentuating every word.

"I know!" Dean yelled at him, "Don't you think I know that? But we're not doing it, Sam. Not tonight!" he insisted, turning his back on Sam and resuming his pacing.

"Dean…" Sam exhaled loudly, staring at the older hunter. He shook his head lightly. "What aren't you telling me?" he demanded again, though he tried to keep his voice as supportive as possible. Dean shook his head, biting his lower lip, and turned away from Sam again.

"Don't ask me that, Sam." He said in a small voice.

"DEAN!" Sam was tired of waiting, tired of excuses. It was time for answers. Dean whirled around, looking irritably at him.

"Fine, dude, you brought it on yourself." Dean hissed through gritted teeth and clenched fists. "That shirt? So wrong, Sammy. So wrong…" he shook his head slowly, clicking his tongue as Sam practically had steam pouring out of his ears. "I mean, what's next? A Disney shirt? 'Cause I gotta tell you…"

"_DEAN!_" Sam screamed, and for a moment, he could swear Dean shrunk back. There was a moment of awkward silence before Dean finally relented. He dropped his shoulders and leaned heavily against the dirty, sticky table.

"I can't have your back, Sam." Dean said in a small voice, "And you're not going to do this alone." Dean added quickly. Sam glared at him, still angry, still waiting for an explanation. A real one this time. No more crap, he was done with it.

"And?" Sam demanded.

"And?" Dean repeated.

"And what aren't you telling me?" Sam muttered through clenched teeth. _Getting their father to call on a regular basis was easier. Hell, understanding women was easier!_ Dean scratched his head, running his fingers through his hair as he bit his lip. He looked uncomfortable again, Sam noticed, uncomfortable, and something more.

"Look, I…" Dean cleared his throat, biting his lip again, "I can't tonight." He said simply, "I just can't, Sam, so let it go." Sam opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. _Let it go?_ Let it go? _Was Dean serious?_

"Um… No!" Sam snapped at last.

"Damn it, Sammy!" and for some reason, the fact that Dean used his childhood nickname only served to infuriate Sam even more. _He was tired of being seen as a kid. He wasn't a kid anymore, he was a man, and it was about damn time people started noticing it!_

"It's Sam!" he snapped, swallowing at the look Dean gave him. He reminded Sam of a puppy someone just slapped with a newspaper. Dean looked at his little brother, giving a slight nod. _It wasn't Sammy he was talking to, _Dean had to remind himself,_ it wasn't his kid brother, the one who looked up to him and followed him around wherever he went. No, this was Sam. The man who walked out on him. The man who will walk out on him again the first chance he'll get_. Dean cleared his throat again, licking his lips, turning his back on Sam, unable to look at him.

"Look, I'm not feeling so hot, okay?" Dean said, his voice cracking. "I'm actually feeling pretty crappy right now, so can we save the Sam tantrum for when I'm feeling up to it?" he bit out, glowering at Sam, and slowly walked over to his bed, slumping down on it.

"What do you mean, you're not feeling hot?" Sam asked a couple of pregnant moments later, "Are you alright?" he asked, worry creeping into his voice. Dean didn't answer him. "She did something to you, didn't she?" Sam went on, his voice a little husky as he, too, slumped on his own bed. "I knew it." He muttered. Dean sighed.

"No, she didn't." he said, toying with the ring on his finger. "Look, it's nothing a good sleep can't fix, so don't start getting all… girly on me." Dean said awkwardly.

"You're lying." Sam accused in a small voice, staring at some vague spot on the carpet. He straightened, looking intently at Dean. "Dean, you're lying." He repeated, more assertively this time. "What's going on?" he demanded. Dean rolled his eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh, giving him the _'oh, jeez, great'_ look. "Dean, what…?" Sam let out a deep breath, "Do you want me to get you something? Are you getting sick again? I knew sleeping outside last night was a bad idea, I bet you're getting sick again." He muttered fretfully, and then sighed. "I guess we can…"

"No." Dean cut him off, "Nothing like that, okay?" for the first time, Dean made eye contact with Sam, trying to reassure the younger brother. "I'm just… I really need some rest, Sam. Just sleep it off for a couple of days, you think I can do that without you freaking out on me or acting like a mother hen and driving me insane?" Dean asked tiredly.

_He was tired? _Just_ tired? He's been sleeping longer than he ever used to, and he was tired all the time! There was enough BS here to grow an entire flower garden_, Sam thought. He nodded lightly.

"You think you can tell me what's going on without lying through your teeth?" he asked, mimicking Dean's tone. Dean let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sam,"

"Dean." Again, Sam imitated Dean's tone. He was worried about Dean, has been for months now, and the fact that Dean was doing Olympic class dodging was making him angry. But Sam caught himself before he let slip some things he knew would only make Dean hide deeper inside his freakish, impenetrable shell. He forced himself to use another tactic. One that hasn't failed as to date. He used his patented, perfected, puppy eyes.

Dean rolled his eyes. He hated it when Sam stared at him, but he really, really hated the puppy eyes. _I'm not gonna cave_, he thought, _this is not gonna work, Sammy_, he tried to convince himself. _Some things a man just have to keep to himself, you were the one who said that, remember? I am not going to cave. I'm NOT going to… Damn it!_

Dean cleared his throat, shrinking under Sam's scrutiny. _God, could he look any more uncomfortable?_ Sam wondered, and felt his gut twisting, his heart speeding up. _This was bad. Whatever it is, he isn't going to like it, and Dean knows it. Whatever it is, it's bad_, Sam knew. He just wished Dean would spit it out already.

"Look, I… I have this… thing…" Dean said in a small voice, finding his hands suddenly very interesting. Sam gave a slight nod, waiting for Dean to go on. At least until he realized Dean wasn't going to go on without some serious encouragement. Or poking.

"Thing? What thing?" Sam asked, and Dean actually squirmed at that one. "What, like a kid sort of thing? Or like 'I just bought a puppy and it peed on your bed' kind of thing? Or is it more like 'I'm mixing pills and booze' kind of thing?" Sam pushed. His eyes never left Dean. He wasn't backing up, not this time. Dean bit his lip, shooting Sam with a quick glance before looking away again. He cleared his throat.

"I have this… problem… with my blood pressure…" he finally admitted. It wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the complete, cold, hard truth, either. Sam frowned, taking a couple of moments to absorb the news.

"Problem?" he asked a few seconds later. Dean tilted his head to the side awkwardly, trying to find the right words.

"I get… I don't know, distracted, and… Look, it's just… I can't look out for you like that, okay?" he admitted in a small, hoarse voice, shooting Sam another quick glance, gauging Sam's reaction.

Sam was quiet for what felt like ages. Dean could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Sam frowned, pursing his lips, and looked at Dean.

"Distracted? Like with the poltergeist kind of distracted?" he asked at last. Dean quickly averted his eyes, unable to look at his little brother, unable to say what needed to be said. Sam took it as an affirmation. "You weren't feeling well then, too, were you?" Sam demanded.

"Look, Sam, it's no big deal…" Dean tried, but Sam cut him off.

"Blood pressure… So, that's why you've been so tired all the time?" he asked, "Why you've been passing out of exhaustion?" he went on, not giving Dean the chance to answer, "Blood pressure problems?" Dean opened and closed his mouth several times. He let out a deep breath.

"Um… well…" was the best he managed. That, along with a slight, hesitant nod. Sam shook his head, still trying to process the news. He got up from his bed and started pacing nervously for a few loaded moments. Dean kept his head down, waiting anxiously, hoping Sam would just let it go. Sam stopped in mid-pace, turning to look apprehensively at his brother.

"And how are you feeling?" he asked, cursing himself for not asking earlier. "I mean, can you do anything about it? Do you need any medical treatment or something?" Sam asked, "I mean, this could be something serious, Dean. God, I can't believe you didn't tell me!" his voice shot up at that last sentence.

"Well, I'm telling you now." Dean said simply. Sam's eyebrows disappeared in his hairline. _Was Dean kidding?_ "And relax, would you?" Dean went on, "It's not like I'm gonna drop dead any second, I just need to rest for a while." He said calmly.

"But Dean, those things, they don't just happen!" Sam cried, he shook his head, his eyes trailing to the cold food sitting on the table. "That's it, no more burgers for you! You're gonna eat right from now on. And no coffee!"

"Hey, whoa, hold on there a second," Dean shot to his feet. Death was not something Dean feared. He had his face to face with it, literally, and more than once. Living a miserable, long, coffee-free life - now that was a different story…

"Dean,"

"Sam!" Dean yelled. It was time to beat some sense into his little brother's head. Sam and needless panic were good friends when they wanted to be. "Look, I'm fine, okay? So don't go all Nurse Betty on me, alright?"

"No!" Sam yelled back. "This is serious here, Dean. You can't just shrug it off!" he scowled. "Come on." He muttered through clenched teeth, walking over to Dean and pulling him by the arm.

"Where?" Dean asked.

"I'm taking you to the hospital." Sam answered tersely.

"Like hell you are!" Dean tried to shrug Sam's hand off, but Sam was holding on to him so strong, Dean was pretty sure he was going to leave a mark. Still, Dean had some tricks up his sleeve, and with a quick maneuver, he managed to get Sam's hand off.

"Dean, this is serious, man!" Sam yelled irritably, "You need to get checked out. This can be worse than just blood pressure." Sam admonished.

"Well, it's not." Dean insisted. It was his job to protect Sam, and damn it, he was going to do it, even if he was protecting Sam from himself. There are some things Sam just did not need to know.

"How do you know?" Sam insisted.

"Because I do, okay?" Sam shook his head, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down, but it wasn't working. Dean was just being stubborn, and this time it might just get him killed. There was no way Sam was letting it happen.

"Still, maybe they could prescribe something, or advise on a diet…" he tried.

"I'm already taking something for that, okay?" Dean said, and Sam actually paled at that. "So stop being such a girl and just let me go to sleep, would you?" Dean pushed, mistaking Sam's lack of answer as agreement. It wasn't. It was shock.

_Dean was taking pills for his blood pressure problem. Dean was taking pills for his blood pressure, and _hiding_ it from him! Dean has known about this long enough to get a prescription, and didn't tell him about it!_ Sam did his best to control his anger, his frustration, his disappointment. His hurt._ Dean didn't tell him. He had asked and asked, he knew something was wrong, but Dean looked him straight in the eye and_ lied_ to him. Why didn't he just tell me? Doesn't he trust me?_

"Oh." Sam swallowed hard. "So, you're taking something for your blood pressure…" Sam said dryly, still unable to contain the myriad of emotion swirling inside him.

"Yeah." Dean said simply. There was a moment of silence before Dean added, "So you could just relax and stop… OW!" he cried as Sam punched him on the arm as hard as he could.

"You stupid asshole!" Sam yelled. Dean blinked in shock, massaging his arm, and frowned. "You're just a big, dumb jerk, you know that, don't you?" Sam spat on, Dean was taken aback from the amount of emotion behind the accusation. "How long have you known?" Sam demanded.

"Sam, it's no big deal…"

"No big deal my foot!" Sam screamed.

"Hey!" Dean protested as Sam punched him again.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam accused, "God, Dean, you can be such an idiot sometimes!" Sam glared angrily at the older sibling, who just couldn't bring himself to look back at Sam. "Does dad know?" Sam demanded. Dean didn't answer, and that was answer enough for Sam. "Damn it, Dean, what were you waiting for? Huh? Were you waiting until you just dropped dead to let me know there's a problem? Dammit, I knew it! I knew there was something wrong…" Dean bit his lip, waiting for the tirade to die down as Sam started pacing again. Sam shook his head, it looked like he was far from being over it. "The way you…" and then he suddenly sucked in his breath, his eyes widening, and then narrowing. He swallowed, turning to look at Dean so slowly, that Dean half-expected to hear music of impending doom playing in the background. "Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"How long exactly has this been going on?" Sam demanded, doing his best to control himself. "And don't lie to me!" he warned. Dean shrugged.

"Not long." He said matter-of-factly.

"How long!" Sam yelled.

"A few months..." Dean admitted in a small voice.

"A few months?" Sam seemed livid, "Like seven, maybe?" he yelled, "Damn it, since the Demon, right? The Demon did this to you?" tears were pooling in Sam's eyes. It was exactly what Dean didn't want to happen. Sam was going to blame himself, Dean just knew it. He was rather surprised when a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered happily _'good'_.

"Sam…"

"God, Dean, you are the most… irritating, inconsiderate, infuriating, stupid _jerk_!" Sam yelled, storming out of the room.

"Hey, Sam, you mind not taking the car?" Dean cried out after him, "My pills are in there, I think I really should take one right about now…" but all the answer he got was a slamming door.

* * *

He knew it! He just knew it! All along, right from the start, he knew Dean was keeping something from him. That asshole. That stupid, moronic, idiotic, cocky, pompous, arrogant, jerk! For months, for months he's been lying to Sam. Okay, so he didn't want to tell their dad, Sam could understand that, sort of. Dean always used to hide his injuries, especially from their dad. He hated to appear weak in their father's eyes. Sam could still remember that hunt they were on, when Dean wouldn't tell their dad he was feeling sick and ended up in the ICU with a ruptured appendix.

_But he should have at least told me!_ Sam thought bitterly. I'm here with him, I'm the one risking my ass working jobs with him! How dare he not tell me? What would have happened if he'd passed out sooner on that poltergeist job? What would have happened if he didn't wake up at the hospital, and Sam didn't tell the doctors about Dean's blood pressure problem? And that's another thing, blood pressure problems don't just happen. Not in healthy twenty eight year olds. Yes, okay, so Dean wasn't exactly healthy at the time, more like coding a couple of times, but still, whatever happened, it shouldn't have left a permanent damage. Not this kind of permanent damage. Unless… Unless there was something else Dean wasn't telling him. Idiot! Self sacrificing idiot! What if… What if…

Sam let out an exasperated cry. So angry he couldn't decide if he wanted to beat Dean to death, or hug him and never let go. There were so many what ifs, he was too scared to even think about it. And that's when he decided. Dean was lying, he was still hiding something, Sam was sure about that. His brother was trying to ease him into the news, to lull him into a false sense of security. Like he did with the painkillers, letting Sam think those were the worst of it. And how come he never found the blood pressure pills there? Dean was hiding them. In the car.

Sam let out a hysteric laugh. Well, that would explain a lot. Like why he kept complaining about the car but still took those long drives on his own. Like why he was out there the other night, sleeping in the car. Yes, Sam has made up his mind. He was going to learn the truth, no matter how painful. Because he couldn't afford not to know. Dean might be in some serious trouble, Sam couldn't afford not to know. And so he knew he had to do it.

He was going to get Dean's records from the hospital in Missouri. He was going to find out everything there was to know, if his brother wanted him to, or not. Sam was done waiting for Dean to come clean.

TBC

Please review!


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Dean raised his eyes to the opening door, straightening a little as Sam walked in the room. Sam looked calmer. Well, at least a little. Dean hesitated a moment, and then decided to give Sam the lead on this one.

Sam closed the door behind him, leaning against it. He took a long look at Dean, still sitting on the bed, a water bottle in hand, the TV remote within reach. Dean quickly turned the TV off, looking expectantly at Sam. Sam gave a slight nod, noting the two new bottles of pills. He hadn't seen those before. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to relax, and pushed away from the door towards his brother.

"So," Sam said, sitting across from Dean. "These your pills?" he asked, jutting his chin towards the new bottles standing on the nightstand between the beds. They didn't seem new. In fact, they seemed very well worn. Dean's eyes shot to the bottles, and then back to Sam. He nodded slowly, his eyes on Sam as Sam reached for the bottles, studying them carefully. He was definitely going to look those up later, see if there was something more his brother was keeping from him. "Are there any more?" Sam asked coolly.

"No." Dean said. Sam gave him a long look, not really convinced. "No, Sam. That's it. All of it." Dean repeated. Sam looked back at the bottles in his hand, setting them back on the nightstand. He studied Dean carefully. Dean was quiet, which usually meant something was up. But then Sam noticed the way Dean was holding himself, the way he was fighting to keep his eyes open. And one of those bottles did have a warning on it, saying it causes drowsiness. If he were taking these, it would explain why he's been so tired all the time. And if Dean had them hidden in the car, it would explain the long rides alone, and why he fell asleep in the car the night before. He must have taken them now, too. Sam let out a breath.

"So now what?" he asked. Dean shrugged.

"Now nothing." He said.

"And you're okay?" Sam asked, making sure. Dean raised a brow. "I mean, other than that?" Sam clarified. Dean nodded.

"Yeah. I'm fine." He said, making Sam smile bitterly, rolling his eyes. Dean reached out, touching Sam's arm. "I'm fine, Sam. As long as I keep taking the pills, I'm fine." He promised.

"And you're taking them? You're… you know, doing what the doctor ordered and stuff?" Sam pushed.

"Yes." Dean said seriously. He wasn't trying to change the subject or joke around, which, on one hand, was good – because this wasn't a joking matter and Sam was tired and pissed of being left out of this. On the other hand, Dean being serious… it just wasn't _Dean_.

Dean cleared his throat. "I… Actually, I've gone to see my doctor a few weeks ago." He said in a tone that tried to say _'this is under control, Sammy'_. Sam's eyebrows disappeared in his hairline. _Dean went to see a doctor? When? _And then he remembered the little trip up to Colorado._ He did say he was in a hospital, and Sam just _knew_ there was no kid with pneumonia involved_. _Well, at least he was taking care of himself_, Sam figured. It's more than he would have expected from Dean.

"I just need to slow down a little, Sam, take everything down a notch and I'll be good as new." Dean promised. "Let this handsome body heal a little before I kick some more supernatural ass…" he smirked, making Sam smile. Now, that was so _Dean_, that it actually helped Sam feel a little better. But only a little. Sam's eyes went to Dean's pills once more.

"Look, Sammy," Dean sighed, "I'm not going away, okay?" he said, waiting just long enough to make sure he had Sam's attention before he went on. "I'm gonna be here for you for as long as you need me to be, okay little brother?" he asked seriously. Sam swallowed, nodding lightly.

"And you're gonna tell me when something's wrong?" he asked, looking intently at the older hunter, "You're gonna let me help?" Dean looked away and Sam narrowed his eyes.

"Um, sure." Dean said, nodding lightly. And Sam knew he was lying.

Later, when Dean's body finally succumbed to the affect of the pills and his brother fell asleep, Sam opened the laptop and started to work. By morning, he knew everything there was to know.

* * *

It was almost six in the morning, but the sun hasn't made its appearance just yet. Sam sat in the dark, the only light coming from the computer screen, and watched his older brother sleep. Dean seemed to be sleeping peacefully, on the most part. Sam's mind raced as he looked at his sleeping sibling. There was still anger, still disappointment and frustration about having to find out this way, about the fact that Dean didn't trust him enough to tell him everything there was to know, _still_ didn't trust him enough to tell him everything. Sam knew that, had the shoe been on the other foot, Dean would have had him admitted to the hospital by now, whether he wanted it or not. 

And then, there was concern, fear even. Dean wasn't okay. He shouldn't be hunting. He shouldn't be sleeping in a crappy bed in a crummy motel. He should rest long enough to actually get better. If anyone had earned it, it was Dean.

Sam grimaced as he looked at the wrinkled notebook in his hand, where he'd written down everything he could find. It took him a long time, and several phone calls, but he finally got his hands on Dean's hospital records from after the accident. He looked up the symptoms, the suggested treatment, the pills, possible complications – everything he could think of. And then he had found out something more. Something he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

Sam pursed his lip, his hand going to his cell phone for the nth time that night, and still, he hesitated.

Dean never told Sam, nor their dad, for that matter, about his heart condition and the resulting blood pressure problem. Sam didn't approve of that, but he knew his brother well enough to try and understand. He'd known Dean long enough to know Dean would do anything to protect him, even mask his own injuries. And Sam could forgive that, he really could. Yes, it had rattled him, but it wasn't what was still making him want to throw up, what was still nagging him, forcing him to keep watching his brother, make sure he was still breathing.

AMA. Dean had signed himself out of the hospital against medical advice after the accident, but he had told both Sam and John that he had been released. Even made a whole show of it, when both Sam and John came to take him from the hospital. Sam remembered thinking Dean still looked sick when they brought him over to the apartment, but back then, just seeing Dean breathing and joking and _alive_ made Sam so grateful that he didn't question his brother.

He should have. He should have pushed Dean back then, but he didn't. He was so relieved to have Dean back, that it didn't even occur to him that Dean might just be sick of laying around in a hospital. Sam cursed himself for that. He knew Dean hated hospitals. He hated them even more than Sam did, and Sam hated hospitals with a passion.

_How could Dean hide this? Why would he hide this? Why hide it from _me? Sam thought bitterly, taking his cell in his hand. He hesitated. _Should he tell dad?_ Dean obviously didn't want dad to know, he obviously had some issues with their dad, but didn't dad have a right to know? Didn't _Sam_ have a right to know? And before he knew it, Sam heard the ringing tone. _Well, what's done's done_, he figured and put the phone to his ear. _With any luck, he'll get dad's voicemail and just hang up_.

"Yeah? Hello?" a very sleepy, raspy voice slurred from the other line. And that's when Sam's mind froze. _What was he going to say?_ Dean obviously didn't want their dad to know, does Sam? _And what good will that do?_ No. Calling was a mistake. Sam nearly ended the call when he heard his father from the other side of the line, now much more alert, and even a little worried. "Sammy? That you? Are you okay?" his father asked. Sam gave Dean another long look and exhaled loudly, getting to his feet and walking over to the window.

"Yes, dad. I'm… I'm fine." He said as he pushed the curtain aside with his finger, looking out the window at the slow drizzle outside. The skies were showing no signs of brightening up.

"What's wrong?" John asked so suddenly, that, for a moment, Sam wondered if his father had read his mind.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong, sir. I…" Sam tripped over his tongue, trying to think of a way to get out of this. "Uh, I… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to call you, I meant to call someone else." Sam lied quickly.

"You boys alright?" John asked, concern evident in his voice, making Sam hesitate again. Doesn't his father have a right to know something's wrong? Sam glanced at Dean. And if he told his father, then what? It wasn't like dad'll just drop everything and come down here. Sam doubted his dad will even tell Dean to take a couple of weeks off of hunting to recuperate properly. Maybe, if things were better between Dean and dad, but as they were now… No, Sam couldn't do it. Nothing good could come of it.

"Yes, sir." Sam said eventually.

"Sammy?"

"Yes, sir?"

"It took you too long to answer." John noted.

"We're fine, dad." Sam sighed.

"And your brother?" John asked. Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean, who started turning in bed, his face crumpled in a frown.

"He'll be okay." Sam said. He wasn't lying, Dean will be okay, Sam will make damn sure of it. He's watched his brother dying in that hospital, twice now. There wasn't going to be a third time, not if he could help it.

"You boys got the job done?" John inquired.

"We're working on it." Sam said, noticing Dean kept tossing and turning. "Look, dad, I'm sorry I woke you, I actually really meant to call someone else. I really need to go." Sam said quickly.

"Sammy?"

"Yes, sir?"

"You take care of your brother." Sam nodded. That, he could do.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

It wasn't long after that, that Dean woke up. He pushed himself off the bed, and Sam realized he's been doing that a lot lately. Not just jump out of bed like he'd used to, but push himself up, like he really didn't want or didn't have the strength to get up. Dean closed the door behind him as he went to the bathroom, and soon Sam could hear the toilet flushing and the sound of running water. 

Dean looked better this morning, Sam noticed. Not all well, but better than he did last night.

"Hey, how long have you been up?"

"A while." Sam answered.

"You feel like grabbing some breakfast?" Dean offered.

"I don't know, should you be out of bed?" Sam asked, raising a brow. Dean scowled.

"Dude, I'm not sick or anything, I was just tired." He shot, "I'm fine now, or, will be after a big breakfast. You up for it?" Dean asked, putting his jacket on. Sam hesitated.

"I don't know, Dean. Maybe you should just rest for a while? I could go get us breakfast." Sam offered.

"Sam, I'm going. You can come, or you can stay here." Sam hesitated a moment longer, but only until he saw Dean reaching for the car keys.

"I'm coming, I'm coming…" he grunted, grabbing his jacket on the way out.

Sam practically grabbed both menus as soon as the waitress handed them out, completely ignoring Dean's _'what the hell?'_ look. He ordered for the both of them; ham and eggs for him, toast, egg white omelet and orange juice for Dean. He made sure the omelet came with a side of fresh vegetables before he ordered some coffee for the both of them.

"Sam!" Dean glowered at him as the waitress left their table, "I am old enough to order my own freaking breakfast, thank you very much! And I wanted bacon and hash browns!"

"Well, tough." Sam said coolly. Ignoring the deadly glower Dean shot his way.

"I can still kick your ass, you know." He gritted through his teeth. Sam's lip quirked up as Dean slouched in his seat. Sam raised a brow. _Was he pouting?_ Sam quickly looked away, hiding his grin from Dean's narrowing eyes.

The waitress came by not long after, carrying their orders. Sam dug right in as Dean forked unhappily at his omelet and vegetables. Sam studied his brother for a couple of seconds, before shaking his head.

"Look, I know you like your greasy, high cholesterol, heart stopping food, but just give it a chance, alright?" Sam asked. He tried to keep a straight face as Dean stuffed a couple of tomatoes in his mouth, buttering his toast. He looked so much like a spoiled five year old who'd just been scolded, that Sam was finding it hard not to laugh.

"I hate rabbit food." Dean muttered into his plate as he started on his toast, looking longingly at Sam's plate. He reached over, trying to snag a bite, only to be slapped on the hand by his baby brother. Dean scowled at him, rubbing his hand. He pushed his plate away, still hungry but determined not to eat anymore girly food, and opted for his coffee instead.

"I thought you said you were hungry." Sam said as he paid the bill.

"I am." Dean said, pushing the door open and heading for the car, at least until he noticed Sam was no longer behind him. He turned, looking questioningly at the younger hunter.

"Well, why didn't you eat anything?" Sam demanded.

"I didn't want to eat _that_, I want real food!" Dean protested, earning himself an angry glare.

"This _is_ real food, Dean! It's just healthier food!" Sam snapped, "And you'd better get used to it!" he said, walking past Dean towards the car, shoving him as he did.

The ride back to the motel was spent in tense silence, and again Sam wondered why Dean didn't put on one of the CDs he's bought him. It only made Sam angrier. _If Dean still had a problem, why couldn't he just say so like a normal person? But no. Dean hated normal. Dean would go out of his way to avoid normal, and then die of a freaking heart attack!_

"You know, we could go over to the house." Dean suggested, breaking the silence. Sam turned to look at him. "The Jefferson's house." Dean clarified. _Oh, so all of a sudden it was okay to go over there? All of a sudden he wasn't feeling sick?_ Sam snorted. "What?"

"You're kidding me, right?" Sam demanded. Dean looked quizzically at him, and Sam clenched his jaw. "You're sick, Dean!"

"I'm not sick!" Dean protested quickly. "I was feeling a little off last night, that's all." He added assertively.

"You should be in a hospital!" at that, Dean huffed.

"Look, we'll stop at the motel, get our stuff, go to the house, finish the job, and then you could be with your girlfriend by tonight." Dean said, all business like, and turned the car over to the motel parking lot.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" Sam burst at him. And then Dean gave him that innocent _'what did I do now?'_ look. "First you tell me you don't want to hunt because you're sick, and then you go to sleep and all of a sudden you're better?" Dean kept looking at him with that same look on his face. "You're not alright, Dean, and a few hours of sleep aren't going to fix it!" Sam all but yelled.

"Well, what do you want me to do, Sam?" Dean demanded. "You're the one that keeps telling me how important it is to get this job finished! You're the one that can't wait to leave this place!" Dean said, his tone quickly becoming angrier, more accusing. _God, can't he see that Sam's just worried about him? No, scratch that, Sam was worried about him. Before. Before he knew. Now Sam was scared. _Reading Dean's medical records, seeing how close he was to actually losing his brother, and finding out that Dean never completed his treatment… Yes, Sam was suddenly less than comfortable with the prospect of getting the job done quickly and rushing back to possibly face the Demon again.

Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head and opened the car door, getting out. Sam was quick to follow him. _It was weird, in a way, he was still expecting to hear the creaking sound of the door closing. They had the Impala for so long, that Sam actually missed it_.

"Sam, stop it!" Dean said, opening the door to their room.

"Stop it?" Sam frowned, "Stop what?"

"Just… stop it! Stop giving me that look!" Dean snapped angrily, reaching under his bed for the weapons duffle and hoisting it up on his bed.

"What look?" Dean cried out in frustration.

"That! That look! That 'oh, my poor, sick, helpless brother' look!" he cried, "I'm not sick, and I don't need your pity, Sam!" Sam's jaw dropped. He blinked. There was such animosity in Dean's tone that it took Sam completely off guard. He didn't get it. Didn't get why Dean was being so guarded all the time, why Dean was being so… distant. He wasn't speaking to their father, he wasn't joking around, and he wasn't talking to Sam. _It couldn't be just the physical thing. So what is it?_ Sam shook his head. A shrink would have a field day treating his brother.

"I'm just worried about you, Dean." Sam said softly.

"Well, don't be. I'm fine. Now you want to toast that spirit or what?" Dean snapped. Sam scratched his head, sitting on his bed.

"No." he said. At that, Dean stopped his fussing with the guns and turned to look at him.

"Come again?"

"It can wait. The Jeffersons can afford another day in that hotel." Sam shrugged. For a moment, it seemed like Dean was lost for words. Just for a moment.

"Get your gear and get your ass in the car, Sam." He said.

"No." Sam said simply. Dean stared at him.

"Fine." He said, shouldering the duffle. "Then I'll go without you."

"No, you're not!" Sam jumped to his feet, getting in Dean's way.

"Move, Sam!" Dean ordered.

"No!"

"Sam!" Dean warned, but Sam wouldn't move. Dean narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded. "You are the one that can't wait to leave… To go to your girlfriend," Dean quickly amended. _And there it is again._ Sam thought, _he does think I want to leave him._

"That can wait." Sam said softly.

"Oh, so now all of a sudden it can wait? Now your girlfriend doesn't matter? Now you don't want to hunt down the demon?" Dean demanded.

"No, not if it means you getting hurt!" Sam cried. He couldn't read the look on Dean's face, and he hated that. There was a time he could read every look on his brother's face, a time he could tell what Dean was thinking just by reading his body language. But not anymore. "Dean, you were right, man. It's not worth it. None of it." He said slowly, "I don't care about the hunt, and I don't care about letting the Demon get away, not if it means I still have you around." He added softly. Dean studied his face for ages, it seemed, but at last he relented, shrugging the duffle off to the floor.

Sam breathed a silent sigh of relief. He guessed Dean wasn't feeling all that much better, he knew his brother well enough to recognize the act, to recognize the need to seem invulnerable, invincible. It's just that, after being told that your brother's chances of recovery are not as good as the doctors had hoped, you don't buy into that crap as much as you used to.

"Fine." Dean said in a small voice, flopping on his bed. "So, what do you want to do now?" he said, not looking up at Sam.

"I don't know." Sam shrugged. "Movie marathon?" he suggested. They used to love doing that when they were little. A ghost of a smile crossed Dean's lips. "Or, you know, I can kick your ass at pool." Sam suggested, a huge grin on his lips at the look on Dean's face.

"Sure, in your dreams!" he said, getting to his feet. "Grab your coat, grasshopper, I'm gonna teach you a thing or two!"

"I'm still gonna be watching what you eat from now on." Sam said as they walked back out to the car.

"If that's what gonna make you stop looking at me like that all the time, knock yourself out, just don't bother me while I'm eating." Dean quipped.

"I mean I am going to make sure you eat healthier!" Sam clarified, getting in the car, and practically grinning like crazy when Dean put on the AC/DC CD, turning the volume up.

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't mess with my coffee." Dean said, heading out of the parking lot, making Sam smile. The hunt can wait. Everything can wait. He's been so close to losing Dean, he wasn't going to take that chance again. Not if he could help it. They'll wait another day, so Sam can be sure Dean wasn't faking it just because he's Dean.

They played pool for a while, Dean kicking Sam's ass without even trying really hard, which kind of irritated Sam because he had been practicing his game. Around lunchtime they came back to their room and Sam offered to go get lunch along with the movies. It took him over an hour to get back, and he just thanked whatever deity was watching over him that Dean had been asleep. The splitting headache from the vision was killing him. He popped one of Dean's painkillers and went to bed himself.

TBC

A/N: Next chapter the boys will finally go ghost hunting, and we'll have us a little toy surprise... Please review, your reviews really help me keep going!


	20. Chapter 19

A/N: Thanks, sifi, for the wonderful vision of Wet!Chesters. The credit goes to you for this idea!

Warning: Some language, nothing too much, but still...

Chapter Nineteen

Sam quickly ended the call, shutting his cell phone off and slipping it in his pocket as Dean got out of the bathroom.

"You okay?" Dean asked at Sam's hasty movements.

"What? Oh, right. Um, yes, I'm fine." Sam said, closing the laptop and packing it up. Dean raised a brow, not really convinced.

"You sure?"

"I don't know, Dean. How are you feeling?" Sam asked pointedly. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Fine, be that way." He grunted, shouldering his duffle. "You coming, or what?" Sam shouldered his own duffle, following his brother out to the car.

They had been quiet at breakfast; Sam, because he was still troubled about having yet another vision of Lynn burning on the ceiling, and Dean, because Sam was making him eat a healthy breakfast again. Well, he ordered it, at least. No one said anything about Dean actually _eating_ this stuff.

"Dean, grow up and eat the vegetables, would you?" Sam snapped at him. Dean muttered something under his breath, turning the page of the paper he had been reading and taking a long swig of his coffee. "It's muffins, Dean. You _like_ muffins!" Sam noted.

"I don't like _bran_ muffins." Dean muttered petulantly, but ate it just the same at Sam's aggravated eye roll. "Dude, if you're gonna keep ordering every meal we eat, I'm gonna starve!" he said in an undertone as Sam got up to pay the check.

The rain started again as they were on their way back to the Jefferson house. This time, Dean drove the car to the front of the house. He pulled the car over by the long driveway, taking the keys out of the ignition. Neither brother moved to get out of the car. They both sat, staring at the house and the tiny drops of rain slowly covering the windshield.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Sam asked, glancing at Dean, who gave a slight nod.

"Yes." He took a deep breath. "Good day for some sprit ass kicking, don't you think?" he smirked, turning to look at Sam.

"Dean…"

"I'm fine, Sam. Good as new." Dean promised.

"Well, we're not separating this time." Sam insisted. As a matter of fact, he didn't plan on letting Dean out of his sight.

"You don't need me to hold your hand or anything, though, right?" Dean asked in mock seriousness, and then smirked again as Sam opened the car door. The rain had nearly stopped, but there were large puddles all around the house, some of them looking pretty deep. "Should've come out the back again." Dean noted as the brothers started taking their gear out of the trunk.

"Widdle Dean is afwaid of the big puddle?" Sam grinned.

"Shut up!" Dean spat, putting a few extra shells in his pocket. "I just don't like to get my feet all soaked." He added, closing the trunk.

"Well, I don't think you should worry," Sam said as they started towards the house, "I mean, they're pretty big, yeah, but look," he walked right into a puddle, "totally shallow." Dean shrugged, following Sam but avoiding the puddles as best he could. Unfortunately, there was a huge puddle right in front of the front door, with slippery mud everywhere. Dean tested the mud, trying to get around the murky puddle. Sam laughed at him, pulling him along.

"Would you come on? It's not like it's…"

The rest of Sam's words were drowned in the splash sound the puddle made as two Winchesters found themselves underwater.

"Well, the rest were shallow, how was I supposed to know?" Sam protested at the murderous look Dean shot him as they stood in waist-deep muddy water, wet and covered in muck.

"You'd better pray it's the spirit that gets you, Sammy!" Dean gritted, spitting out mud, as he tried to climb out of the slippery puddle, the thick mud all around making it impossible to find a stronghold that would help them out. "Well, that's just great!" Dean huffed, shaking his hands to get the mud off.

"Look, I'm sorry, alright?" Sam asked, and then blinked, taking in his brother's wet form. He did his best to stop from bursting out laughing, knowing all too well that Dean might take it the wrong way.

"Damn, the rock salt!" Dean cried out, quickly fishing the rifles and the extra shells out of the murky water and onto the mud, hoping they won't get ruined. "I am so kicking your ass, Sam!" Dean said, trying to claw his way out of the water again.

That's when he heard something unexpected. Slowly, with deadly seriousness, he turned his deadly glare on his younger brother. "What are you laughing at?" he demanded, only to be hit by a slab of mud. "Oh, you _so_ did _not_ throw that dirt thingy at HEY!" he cried when Sam splashed some more water his way. "That's real mature, Sammy. Real mature." He said, and with a little hop and a shove, managed to completely submerge Sam.

"Dean!" Sam cried, spitting out water and dirt as Dean laughed. "Why'd you do that for? You'd better not gotten dad's journal all wet, we need the ritual to get rid of the spirit!" Sam snapped.

"You started it." Dean muttered, pushing himself out of the water and helping Sam out, but not before pushing him under again. Payback's a bitch, but that doesn't mean it can't be fun sometimes.

* * *

Sam rubbed his shoulder, waiting for Dean to lock the door. The hunt had gone surprisingly well, with the slight exception of Sam slipping in one of the pools of water the two had left on their way to the bathroom and landing hard on his rear end. It was still a little sore, but all things considered, Sam couldn't even remember a hunt going that well in the past, well, ever. 

Both brothers used the opportunity to shower and wash their clothes in the Jefferson's large washing machine, and Sam had to admit, the fabric softener was a nice touch, even though Dean kept muttering something about hunting down some teddy bear.

They even confiscated a little treasure; imported beer Dean had found in the fridge. Dean said it would be a crime to leave it hanging around, and so he didn't. Everything had gone without a hitch. They even found a Led Zeppelin CD and played it, listening in surround with those perfect speakers.

Dean seemed like he'd just glimpsed at heaven, sitting there in the leather recliner, with his feet up, a beer in his hand, his eyes closed and a huge grin on his face, while Sam did his best to clean up after them.

"You know," Sam said as they turned away from the house, pursing his lips and shaking his head. He just had a bad feeling about this.

"What?" Dean asked, frowning at the look on Sam's face. Sam shook his head again.

"I don't know," he said, "I just have this feeling…"

"Feeling? Like, 'I wanna hug a tree' feeling or like 'I see dead people' feeling?" Dean asked, slipping the keys in his pocket and taking out the car keys. Sam shot him a look.

"Funny." He said dryly. "No, it's just… it was… almost… easy, don't you think?" Sam stuttered, trying to find the right words to describe the nagging feeling deep in his gut. Dean nodded his head in a 'yes, no' gesture.

"Well, you didn't get strangled." He noted.

"And you didn't get flung across the room." Sam offered, and Dean nodded again as they headed back to the car. "I mean, it's _our_ luck after all… I just feel like something bad is going to happen, you know?" Sam asked, still feeling on edge, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And then it did.

Dean pushed him in the deep puddle again.

"DEAN!" Sam yelled, but couldn't help the grin spreading on his face to the sound of his brother's laughter. He wiped the muck from his face, rolling his eyes, and climbed out of the puddle. _He will get his revenge. Oh, he will so get his revenge._ "Whatever man," Sam said as he finally made it to the car, where Dean was standing, cracking up. "I'm just glad you're okay." He added.

And then, without warning, Sam hugged Dean. He made damn sure to get his brother as dirty and wet as he was. Plus, the whole hug-horror face Dean had was totally worth it.

For about half a second.

And then Sam yelped, his eyes widening at Dean's pleased smirk.

Dean had a hand full of mud. Mud that was making its way down the back of Sam's shirt.

"Dean!" Sam cried, but Dean just laughed, cleaning his hand on Sam's shirt, and got in the car. Sam shook his head. _That would never have happened if they'd still had the Impala_, he thought, shuddering at the sticky feeling in his back, and climbed onto the car.

* * *

Something was different when Sam came out of the shower. He could instantly tell something has changed. 

Dean was sitting on his bed, resting against the headboard and leafing though John's journal like he'd done a million times before. Sam dried his hair, tossing the wet towel on the floor when he was done with it. He reached for his duffle and took out his last clean shirt, putting it on. Definitely time to do some laundry. Too bad they didn't bring their clothes with them to the Jefferson house - that was one big washing machine. Dean didn't look up from the journal. Sam ran his fingers through his hair, trying to fashion it to his liking. Dean still didn't look up, not even to make inappropriate hair jokes.

"Well, I'm starving. You want to go grab some dinner?" Sam suggested. "I'll even let you order your own food this time." Sam smiled, trying to joke. It didn't work. It actually backfired.

"Stop treating me like I'm freakin' four, Sam!" Dean snapped. Sam raised a brow.

The ride back to the motel had been great. It was wonderful actually, mud and wet, clingy clothes notwithstanding. It was just like it used to be before… Before. They joked, and teased, with loud rock blaring through the speakers and high spirits.

Nothing happened when they got to the motel. Dean went in the bathroom, and then Sam finally got to shower, and then he got out and there was tension in the air again. He couldn't understand it. He had no idea what had happened. Well, he had one idea actually.

"Anyone called while I was in the shower?" Sam asked, keeping his voice as nonchalant as possible. Dean glanced at him.

"No. Why, you expecting a call?" he asked, and Sam could swear the temperature in the room just dropped a few degrees. He shrugged.

"Just asking." Sam said, "Anyway, what about that dinner? 'Cause I really am starving." Dean gave him a sidelong glance, slamming the journal shut, and got off the bed. "You know, if you're tired or not feeling well, I can always…"

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean stopped him. "Let's go eat." He said, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door, leaving one flabbergasted Sam behind.

* * *

Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes, exhaling loudly. "Just talk to me, man." He said in a small voice. "Dean, just… Please, talk to me." 

"There's nothing to talk about, Sam." Dean said dryly, trying to separate his clothes into two piles; dirty, and really need a wash, putting the latter into the machine. Sam was sitting Indian style on his own machine. They weren't the only people at the Laundromat at this hour, but neither really cared.

"Dean…"

"There's nothing to talk about, Sam." Dean repeated, louder this time, and closed the machine door, starting it.

"What happened?" Sam pushed, "One minute everything was fine, and then I go to the bathroom, and it's like, I don't know, I don't know what I did, Dean. Just tell me what I did." He pleaded.

"I don't know what you're talking about, man." Dean said, sitting atop the washer, "You didn't do anything. I'm not mad. Everything's fine." He added a moment later. _Fine_. Sam was really starting to hate that word.

"Fine." He muttered, looking at his watch. "So, the laundry should take about an hour, we can hit the road in about two, two and a half hours, be back in Armain just after midnight." Sam said, watching Dean's reaction. And there it was. The jaw clenching, looking away, biting the lip. _He still thinks I'm gonna leave him? Damn it, Dean, what can I do, what can I say to make you believe me? I'm not leaving you, would you get that through your thick skull?_

"Yeah, well, I doubt that." Dean said, jumping off the washer. Sam frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"Means I'm not going back there." Dean said, and then looked at Sam, "And neither are you." he added, a hint of warning in his tone.

"Excuse me?"

"We're not going back there, Sammy, so just… Call your girl, tell her it's not gonna happen." Dean said gruffly.

"Dean!" Sam got to his feet, getting in his brother's personal space. "First of all, stop calling her that. She's not my girl, she's not my girlfriend, and I'm not trying to get back there just to get laid, got it?" he demanded, and then went on just as Dean was about to speak. "And second, I'm not going to just pretend I didn't see what I saw, Dean. I saw her die. I can't pretend I didn't. I can't just walk away and then read about it in the paper!" Dean glanced nervously at the people staring at them with interest.

"We really need to do this now?" he asked. Sam narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. This was not over. Not by a long shot. He turned, jumping back on the washing machine, and just sat there, seething.

* * *

"We're going!" 

"No, we're not!"

"Dean,"

"Damn it, Sam!"

"Why?" Sam demanded, raising his voice, "Just answer me this, Dean, why?" Dean suddenly found the carpet extremely interesting. He gazed up to meet Sam's intent stare.

"I just… I have a bad feeling about this, okay?" Dean said, "I've been doing this long enough to trust my instincts, Sam." He added just as Sam was about to speak, shaking his head. "This… this thing… It just doesn't feel right." He explained.

"Well, maybe it doesn't feel right because you don't feel right." Sam snapped, "Maybe it doesn't feel right because you're sick, and you can't just go kicking down doors and saving the day, d'you even think about that?" he demanded. Dean gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw.

"You know, maybe I have been a little off lately," Dean said in a small voice, the hurt evident in his voice, "but I've still been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you, Sam, and I'm telling you, this doesn't feel right. It feels like a trap." He said, and Sam shook his head, not willing to listen to this again. "Look, why do we keep going back there?" Dean demanded, "We're always ending up back there! How many times have we tried to leave that town, Sam? And we always come back!" Dean said, raising his voice. "It just feels wrong, Sammy, can't you see that?"

"It's Sam!" Sam snapped, "And no, I can't! All I can see is another woman pinned to the ceiling with blood dripping over my bed!" he yelled. "I can't let her die, Dean! I won't!"

"Well, I won't let you go back." Dean said assertively, trying to keep his voice at a normal level. "We're not going back, and that's it!"

"Who do you think you are to say that?" Sam demanded, "I'm the one who saw the vision, I'm the one that keeps seeing her die!"

"The vision?" Dean snorted, smiling bitterly, "Screw the vision, Sam!" he bit out, "That thing's been screwing with you for ages, if you hadn't noticed!" he yelled, "When was the last time you had a vision that actually turned out the way you saw it?" he demanded.

"I can't ignore it, Dean. I won't!" Sam shouted. Dean's look spoke his mind for him. Sam shook his head, exhaling loudly. "All right, so, maybe the visions didn't turn out exactly as I saw them, but they did come true!" Sam said, "They always come true, and you know it!" Dean said nothing. He didn't need to. His body language spoke for him. _We're not going, period._ "We can't just ignore it, Dean! We can't just do nothing!" Sam yelled. They've been at it for the better part of the last hour, and so far, neither of them seemed to be willing to give in.

"And what are you going to do, Sam? Huh?" Dean demanded, "What? Say the Demon is there, what are you doing to do? You going to cunningly drown it in your own blood? Huh? What, you're gonna lecture it to death?" Dean demanded angrily. Sam glowered at him, his face red with anger, but Dean didn't care. "We don't have the Colt, Sam, remember? If it is the Demon, how the hell are you going to kill it?" Dean yelled. For a slight second, Sam seemed to actually listen. He let out a long breath, scratching his head, and then shook it as he paced back and forth in the room.

"I can't just walk away and let Lynn die." He said, pursing his lips.

"You want to help her? You want to save your girlfriend?" Dean demanded, and Sam couldn't help but grimace at Dean's tone, "Well, the best thing you can do for her is walk away! Walk away, Sam, and the Demon won't have a reason to hurt her." Dean finished. Sam stared at him. He couldn't believe Dean would say that, he couldn't believe Dean would use such a low blow. No matter how true. _It's my fault_, Sam thought. _Mom, Jess, they died because of me. They died because they got in the way. Dean nearly died because he got in the way. And now, Lynn_… _Maybe Dean was right. Maybe, if he just stayed away, she'd be safe?_ _But Jess wasn't safe. I wasn't there, and Jess still died_.

"Look, Sam, I'm sorry." Dean said, walking over to Sam and making the younger man look at him. "You want to do this? You want to go after the Demon? Fine. Call dad, get the Colt. Hunt it together. But don't go out there alone and unarmed, okay?" Dean asked. Sam studied him for a long time before giving a slight nod. The fact that Dean excluded himself from the hunt did not go unnoticed, but he didn't have the energy to deal with it right now.

"Okay." Sam said in a small voice. He sat on the bed, his head lowered.

"I mean it, Sam."

"I said okay!" Sam snapped. Dean crossed his arms over his chest, looking intently at the younger hunter, trying to make up his mind whether or not this fight really was over. And then Sam got to his feet. "I'm gonna go take a walk." The younger man said, and walked out the door.

* * *

Sam returned back to the room more than two hours later. He needed the time to think, clear his head. Okay, so some of the things Dean said did make sense. Without the Colt, there really wasn't much Sam could do against the Demon. And it did sort of seem strange that they kept finding themselves back in Armain. He wasn't stupid, he was pretty sure the Demon had been there, that the Demon was after that little baby, and yes, there was the chance that the Demon had moved on – his father was tracking it, after all, but Sam just couldn't get rid of the sight of Lynn pinned to the ceiling. He wasn't going to let that happen again. He couldn't. 

And the way Dean was reacting to the whole thing… That was a whole other can of worms. Since when did Dean stop wanting to go after the Demon? Or was it just because he suggested their dad get involved? And what was the whole thing between Dean and their dad anyway?

Sam was almost back at the motel room when the vision struck again. Twice in as many days. That's it. There was no way he can ignore it now. He wasn't there to help and protect Jess, he won't make that mistake again.

"You alright?" Dean asked when Sam stumbled back in the room.

"Headache." Sam said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Without word, Dean got up and brought over a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. Sam took two aspirins, thanking Dean, and flopped down on his bed.

"You want something stronger?" Dean suggested, looking at Sam. Sam considered it a second.

"No, I'm good." He said eventually.

"Another vision?" Dean asked softly, touching the younger man's shoulder.

"Just a headache." Sam lied. "Look, I just want to go to bed, if you don't mind." Sam said. Dean shrugged.

"Sure. Anything I can get you?" Dean offered.

"No." Sam said, taking his shoes off, changing his clothes. He got in bed without another word. Dean stayed up for a while longer, reading John's journal, working on the laptop for a while, no doubt looking for their next hunt. Finally, already feeling the tug of sleep and seeing as his brother was asleep, Dean took his pills and slipped into bed.

That was exactly what Sam has been waiting for. He waited a while longer, making sure Dean was out cold, before getting out of bed, changing his clothes and quickly and quietly packing his things. He kept looking over his shoulder, making sure Dean was sleeping, making sure Dean stayed out of it. Dean didn't want to be a part of it. Fine. There was no need for him to be. _It wasn't him the Demon was after anyway_, Sam thought, slipping out the door. There was a car in the parking lot just begging to get stolen…

TBC


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Last time on 'I Wanna Know Why'…

_Finally, already feeling the tug of sleep and seeing as his brother was asleep, Dean took his pills and slipped into bed._

_That was exactly what Sam has been waiting for. He waited a while longer, making sure Dean was out cold, before getting out of bed, changing his clothes and quickly and quietly packing his things. He kept looking over his shoulder, making sure Dean was sleeping, making sure Dean stayed out of it. Dean didn't want to be a part of it. Fine. There was no need for him to be. _It wasn't him the Demon was after anyway_, Sam thought, slipping out the door. There was a car in the parking lot just begging to get stolen…_

* * *

Sam sat on the bed in his new motel room, hesitating. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do next. Instinctively, he turned, looking for his brother to tell him what to do. But Dean wasn't there. With any luck, Dean still had no idea that Sam was gone. Sam yawned, stretching over his bed, but not before making sure the only thing on the ceiling were water stains. He had two choices; going to Lynn's now, or catch a few hours of sleep first. It was his headache that eventually made up his mind, and he drifted in sleep. 

He woke up with a start to the sound of his cell phone. After trying to convince his heart that inside the body was a perfectly good place for a heart to be, Sam reached for the offending phone. It was Dean. Sam hesitated. He knew Dean would be worried, hell, if he was the one to wake up and find his brother gone, he'd have a heart attack. But on the other side, Dean had been so adamant that they wouldn't return to Armain. Dean didn't want any part of it, he didn't want to hunt the Demon, not anymore. Sam didn't get that. After everything they'd been through, he didn't, couldn't understand why Dean didn't want to find the damn Demon and destroy it.

And how could he explain it to his brother? How could he possibly explain what it felt like to open your eyes and see the woman you love pinned up on the ceiling, with her blood dripping on you? How could Sam possibly explain what seeing it again felt like?

The call went to voicemail, and then Dean called him again. And again. Sam switched his phone off.

Well, there was no going back to sleep now, not with the guilt he was feeling. If he could only make Dean understand… But he couldn't. Dean wouldn't listen. Sam had to leave, there was just no other way.

Pushing himself off the bed, Sam bee-lined to the bathroom. After answering nature's call, he brushed his teeth and tried his best to control his long, unruly hair. He had left the car a few blocks down the road, and there was no way he was ever getting anywhere near it again. And that meant walking. Putting his coat on, Sam went out in search for breakfast. He got himself a cup of bad coffee from one of the machines, and an old, bland sandwich from another machine, and walked slowly back to the room.

He needed a plan. It wasn't like he could go up to Lynn and say, 'hi, I know I've been gone for a few days, but hey there's this demon out there, and it sort of wants to slice out your gut and hang you up from my ceiling. No, nothing personal, it just has a grudge against me and it kills everyone that gets in its way'. Yeah, he could just see how well that would go.

Well, first thing's first, he had to do this face to face. Mustering his courage, Sam started for Lynn's place.

* * *

Sam climbed the steps leading to Lynn's apartment. It's been a long walk from his motel to her apartment, he was just thankful that it wasn't raining. He still had a flight of stairs to climb when a foreboding feeling started twisting his gut. There was something wrong. He was too late. Sam's heart hammered, and he wished, and not for the first time, he had Dean by his side. He ran the rest of the way up, taking the steps three at a time. 

Lynn's door was slightly open. Sam cursed.

* * *

The apartment was a mess. And though Lynn wasn't the tidiest person, and there was usually some clutter around, it was never like this. The place looked like there's been a bar brawl in there, with overturned furniture and broken glass and everything. Sam's heart pounded against his chest. _God, I hope she was just robbed. Please, God, let it just be a robbery_… Sam thought, hoped, as he fished his cell out of his coat pocket, switching it on, and dialed Lynn's number. 

He jumped when he heard Lynn's phone ring somewhere in the apartment. _Indiana Johns ringtone?_ Sam couldn't stop himself from making a face. This was not good. Not good at all. And the fact Lynn's phone was here wasn't good, either.

Sam forced himself to calm down, to think clearly. What was he supposed to do now? Damn, he wished Dean was here. _What would Dean do? Tell me to calm down. Right_. Sam took a deep breath, still looking around, careful not to touch anything. _Okay, I'm calm. Now what?_ Sam wished he'd brought a weapon with him as he slowly started walking around the apartment. _Empty. No ozone traces, and even better, no sulfur._ Now, if he could only track EMF with his spidy sense…

Okay. He has to treat this as a case. Just a case, like any other. He can do that, right? _I hope so, _Sam thought as he gave the room another once over, but he couldn't find anything. Not without the right equipment. _I knew I should have taken Dean's EMF meter_… _Well, at least no one's hanging from the ceiling, either…_

Frustrated, Sam leaned against the door to Lynn's bedroom. He was getting a headache. Maybe it was best if he got out of the apartment, got some fresh air. He started towards the door, but the pulsing pain behind his eyes only got stronger. Familiarly strong. _Oh, shit!_

* * *

_It was dark. It smelled pretty bad, too, but the darkness bothered him more. There were windows, high up near the ceiling, but they were dirty and grimy, and even if there was light outside, Sam doubted it could go through what seemed like years of neglect._

_It was a little hard to breathe, too. Like this place had been closed for so long that the air was just now finding its way back in, along with him._

_There were large crates and boxes everywhere; crates upon crates, boxes upon boxes, making paths, creating a maze. Every instinct in him screamed at him to get out. It's funny how much those screams sounded like Dean. Sam stopped for a minute, just to make sure it wasn't really Dean doing the screaming. He breathed in relief when no actual screaming was heard, and nearly choked on the dust._

_His heart hammered, the flashlight in his hand flickering. "Lynn?" he called out._

_"Sam!" and then there was a scream, cut short. The dim light from the old lamps flickered and hummed, and then died down. And then it was dark. Only it felt like the darkness had a life of its own. Sam swallowed hard. He forced himself to move on, to keep going. Lynn was in danger, she was hurt, he had to get to her._

_And then he felt it. A drop. He froze. Another drop. He looked up._

_"Too late," she whispered, "he's already dead."_

_The flames started everywhere all at once; from the ceiling, consuming Lynn, from behind, preventing his retreat, from up ahead, leaving him no place to go. He was trapped._

_But there was something there. A figure. Sam covered his face with his hand, trying to protect it from the intense heat. He swallowed hard again._

_"Dean?" and then the figure turned, and his brother smirked at him. "Oh, God, Dean, you have no idea how happy I am to see you," Sam started, and then his words died on his lips. His brother's eyes were yellow._

_"Took the words right out of my mouth, Sammy."_

"No!" Sam cried, hissing in pain, and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to block away the pain. He fought just to keep standing on his feet. He could taste the bile rising up in the back of his throat. "No! Dean!" he hissed in pain again, and then the world went white again.

* * *

_It was dark again, and smelled just as rancid as before. The darkness was stifling. Light barely penetrated the high, dirty, grimy windows. Large crates and boxes were everywhere; crates upon crates, boxes upon boxes, making paths, creating a maze. Sam recognized this place. He had seen it before._ But wait, wasn't that in a vision?_ He thought, cursing as the flashlight he was holding begun to flicker. _Oh, great. _His heart was pounding in his chest as he made his way through the crate maze._

_He gasped, his eyes widening, and instinctively found shelter behind one of the crates, peering at the gruesome site before him, hoping not to be seen. Not yet._

_The Demon was there. He could tell it was the demon even without seeing the yellow eyes. There was just something about the man that made it clear he was merely a host. And the fact Lynn was pinned to the wall was kind of a giveaway, too. _

_"Please," Lynn begged, tears streaming from her eyes. "I don't understand, why are you doing this?" she cried._

_"You got in the way." The Demon smirked at her, "Nothing personal, dear. I guess you picked the wrong brother to hit on."_

_"Please, let me go! I won't see him ever again, I promise!"_

_"I know you won't." the Demon smirked, taking a step back. And then Lynn screamed at the top of her lungs as crimson rivulets started streaming from her stomach. An invisible force drove her up against the ceiling, and that's when she saw him. That's when her eyes widened._

_"Sam! Sam, help me! Sam, please!" she cried, begged. And then the Demon turned to face him, amused._

_"Go ahead, psychic boy. Help her. Save her. That'd be a neat trick." It smirked smugly. "You might want to cover your head, I hear humans don't really appreciate smoke." And then the ceiling erupted in flame. Lynn screamed. And then there was only the roar of the fire._

"No!" Sam cried, "No! Lynn!" he pressed the heels of his hands to his temples, trying to block out the blinding headache, but it wasn't working. He was shaking rather violently, and couldn't help being sick. His heart raced, he was sweating, and that damn headache wouldn't go away. 

Lynn was going to die. Tonight. He was sure of it. He had to get to her now, before it was too late. There was no way Sam was going to let another woman burn because of him, no way he was going to let another family go through that hell because of him.

But how the hell was he going to find her? _Think, Sam, think!_ He told himself, forcing himself to breathe deeply and concentrate. He wished his visions were as accurate as they had once been. He wished they were as far from accurate as possible and that he was just overreacting. He wished Dean was there to tell him what to do. But that wasn't the case. Sam had take care of it, and he had to do it on his own.

_Okay, think, Sam! Why did you just get two visions?_ He thought, _because the headache is so much fun?_ He thought bitterly. He forced himself to take a deep breath and clear his mind. _Well, for whatever reason, the visions have always been there to help me. Screwed up or not, they still always showed me what I needed to know. _Sam drew a shaky breath. _Okay, so, two visions, probably means that I should hurry, _Sam thought. And since the common denominators seemed to be Lynn, the Demon and that warehouse, Sam figured he should look up the warehouse.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, it's a trap…" he muttered angrily at the little voice in his head that tried to warn him. A little voice that sounded just like a certain big brother…

* * *

Finding the location of the warehouse wasn't nearly as difficult as getting to it without a car. So Sam 'borrowed' one. 

The restlessness in his gut grew the closer he got there. It was a warehouse complex, actually, in the old factory area not too far from town. The warehouses were deserted on the most part, the factory having closed more than twenty years earlier. Sam kept glancing at the small arsenal of weapons he had in the passenger seat, including a sawed-off shotgun, a couple of handguns, holy water, silver bullets, consecrated rounds, and his dad's journal. He had the nagging suspicion that Dean would skin him alive for that one.

A few warehouses looked like they could be the one from Sam's vision, but he was rather reluctant to check them all. He reached in his pocket and fingered his cell phone. Dean had called three more times, but none of them in the past four hours. Sam didn't know whether to be relieved or worried. He went with preoccupied instead.

_Okay, Sam, time to make a decision here_, Sam told himself, and chose one of the warehouses. Two hours later, and after carefully combing every inch of that place, Sam figured he had the wrong warehouse. He was rather grateful for that, though, for the smells in that place made him gag.

It was dusk now, and Sam pulled out his flashlight as he went into yet another warehouse. It took him about fifteen minutes before he recognized it. Before the flashlight began to flicker. Sam cocked his shotgun, looking around him warily for any sign of the Demon. He knew he would be of no match to it without the Colt, his only hope was to get Lynn out of there as quickly as possible.

And that's when he saw her, against the wall, her head drooped, her eyes closed. Sam's heart doubled its pace, his mouth went dry and he had to force his body to stop shaking. _Okay, so he was scared. Would be stupid not to be, especially after what happened last time. And what the hell was he doing here on his own?_ For the slightest of moments, Sam seriously considered going back, getting out of this place as soon as possible, before it was too late, before the Demon finds out that he's here.

_And how come the Demon's here, anyway? It's not the usual MO. There were no freak lightning storms, no cattle mutilations, no six months old babies involved, what would the Demon do in a warehouse for crying out loud? Unless it was here for Sam._ Sam swallowed, heart hammering. He had to go back. Now.

"Sam?" _damn it!_ "Sam, is that you?" Lynn's voice was frail, she struggled to keep her head up, to keep her eyes open. _Damn it, I can just leave her here to die!_ Sam thought, finding some solace in the shotgun in his hand as he took in his surroundings, trying to figure out the best way to escape if need be. "Sam, I'm so glad you're here," Lynn breathed, "I was beginning to think you weren't going to come for me." She cried weakly. And then raised her head, a smirk on her lips. "I tell you, waiting here can totally bore a person to death, you know?" she pushed herself away from the wall, stretching her aching muscles.

"I really am glad you decided to come, Sammy." she smirked as she made her way toward him. "I mean, what is a girl to do?" she was right in front of him now, and all Sam could do was gawk at her. "Vision after vision after vision… You really make a girl work hard, you know?" she said in a way that painfully reminded Sam of Meg.

"You're a demon!" Sam gasped.

"Better than that, Sammy." Lynn touched his arm playfully. "I'm human." She looked up at him, "I'm just like you." Sam shook his head, but Lynn went on, "Or rather, I used to be like you. But I didn't fight it. I accepted it, accepted who I am. And Father rewarded me for it." She said, her eyes locking Sam's with her gaze. Sam shook his head.

"No!" he said hauntingly, pushing her away.

"Aww, Sammy, don't be like that." Lynn grinned. "You have any idea how powerful you could be?"

"You did this? The visions? It was you?" Sam demanded, feeling sick to his stomach. Lynn shrugged, though her smile widened.

"What can I say? I am talented." She boasted.

"You're sick!" Sam snapped, turning away towards the exit, but Lynn was quick to stand in his way.

"C'mon, Sam, all this work and you're leaving already? A girl can really get upset about that. It's not a very nice thing to do."

"Bite me!" Sam snapped, walking faster, gritting his teeth as Lynn started to laugh.

"May I?" she asked, and he shot a deadly glare her way. "Oh, come on, Sam. Don't be so heavy, you should really lighten up a little." Sam stopped abruptly, glaring at her, and then pointed the shotgun at her chest.

"If you're really human, consecrated rounds won't have a problem killing you." he said gruffly. Lynn cocked a brow.

"No," she said, "But that won't be very nice of you." she said, crossing her arms. "And here I was, ready to play nice."

"Get the hell away from me!" Sam threatened.

"Or what?" Lynn asked. Sam cocked his head to accentuate the gun in his hand. "What, you'll kill me?" she shrugged. "You hear that, Father? Sammy's going to kill me." Sam swallowed, risking a glance over his shoulder.

"Son of a…"

TBC

A/N: Yeah, sorry about the no Dean in this chapter. Trust me, it wasn't an easy thing to do, being a Deangirl and all, but this is a Sammy story… Yeah, yeah, okay… (goes to stand in the corner and write Dean back). Oh, you're angry about the cliff hanger thing? Oh. Well, I wouldn't have to do something this cruel if you'd review, now would I?


	22. Chapter 21

A/N: Well, this got a little more intense than I meant for it to be, so be warned.

Chapter Twenty One

Last time on 'I Wanna Know Why'…

_"Get the hell away from me!" Sam threatened._

_"Or what?" Lynn asked. Sam cocked his head to accentuate the gun in his hand. "What, you'll kill me?" she shrugged. "You hear that, Father? Sammy's going to kill me." Sam swallowed, risking a glance over his shoulder._

_"Son of a…"_

* * *

Sam shook his head in frustration, biting his lip. The tiny voice in the back of his mind kept saying 'told you so' in a singsong voice. _Yeah, well, that's just freakin' great! _Sam thought bitterly as he tried in vain to free himself from the wall where the Demon had him pinned, and not very gently. 

He ignored the smirk on Lynn's face, promising himself he'll deal with her later. He ignored the smug look on the Demon's face, telling himself it had every right to appear smug. After all, Dean has been telling him over and over again how stupid it would be to go back. And here he was – up against the Demon, alone, and without the Colt. _So how's that wonderful plan of your working so far, Sam?_ He hit his head against the wall a couple of times.

"Oh, come on, Sam. It's not that difficult." Lynn goaded him, smirking. "Here, I'll show you." Sam hissed in pain, his face scrunching up at the sharp pain in his head. It felt like someone put a hot poker through his skull, all the way through to the other side. And then the images came; the image of himself pushing effortlessly away from the wall, pulling the Colt from his waistband and putting a bullet through the Demon's head. And then having some wild, R-rated moments with Lynn. "See? Not too difficult, is it?" Lynn gloated. "And you had a vision about it, so it must come true..." she smirked.

"I am so going to kill you!" Sam breathed through the pain.

"Me?" Lynn asked in mocked shock, pointing at herself. She clicked her tongue. "But Sam, I'm human. You don't kill humans, do you?" she grinned, nearing him. "Besides, you know you think I'm cute." She whispered in his ear. Sam rolled his eyes.

"You know, we had Meg take a seven story nose-dive, and then exorcised." He noted. The lights flickered, and Sam could practically feel the anger radiating from the Demon. _Oops_.

"Well then, it must have sucked being Meg." Lynn quipped.

"Enough." The Demon's voice was reserved, but Lynn obeyed him immediately.

"Yes, Father." She said, lowering her eyes and stepping back, though still within earshot. Sam swallowed as the Demon neared him.

"It's been a while, psychic boy." The Demon grinned. "Missed me?"

"Apparently." Sam said, "I'll try to get a better shot next time." Sam snapped. The Demon cocked a brow.

"That was actually funny." It said, a ghost of a smile gracing its face. "I thought your brother was the funny one. How is he, by the way?"

"You leave my brother out of this, you hear me?" Sam demanded, making the Demon laugh.

"Leave your brother out of this? But what's the fun in that?" the Demon smirked and Sam narrowed his eyes. "So, tell me, Sammy, where's the gun?" the Demon demanded, all sign of amusement gone from its face.

"I don't have it." Sam said through gritted teeth as he felt the pressure pinning his body to the wall increase. It was getting difficult to breathe, and his head was still pulsing with the after effects of the vision, or whatever the hell it was that Lynn made him see.

"Aw, come on, Sam. You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?" the Demon scoffed. "You really expect me to believe you'd be stupid enough to come here without the Colt?" Sam swallowed hard. _Okay, yeah. Stupid would be a good word to use, _he figured. _What the hell was I thinking, leaving Dean, coming here without the Colt? Stupid!_ "Come on, Sam. I've been patient." The Demon went on, and Sam grimaced as the pressure against his chest intensified. "Now, give me the Colt. I know you have it." Sam let out a short, hysterical laugh.

"What makes you think I'm here alone, or that I'm the one that has it?" Sam bit out, still laughing, panic rising in his chest. He had to keep cool, he had to stay sharp. He had to be realistic. _Yeah, and pray for a freakin' miracle_. Damn it, why did he have to split on Dean? Even if Dean will have found the motel room, there was no way for his brother to know where he is now. Sam cursed himself. _Keep it cool, Sam. Dean would have_.

The Demon motioned to Lynn, and she quickly disappeared among the crates. Sam swallowed as the Demon's eyes were on him again.

"Now, don't give me that crap, Sammy boy. I know you boys have the gun. Your brother had it back in Armain. I want it." The Demon demanded. Sam blinked. It took a second for the words to sink in. _Ah huh! I knew it! I knew he'd be stupid enough to go against the Demon on his own! See, I do know you, Dean! What made you think you could pull it off?_ Sam could feel the anger beginning to bubble inside him. That is, until he remembered where he was, and what his current predicament was.

"Yeah, well, I want you dead. We all want things." Sam tried to quip. The pressure in his chest told him it probably wasn't the best of plans.

"I'm going to find your brother, Sam." The Demon said seriously. "I'm going to rip him apart limb by limb. I'm going to make him beg for his own death. And I'm going to make sure you'll be there to see it." It said.

"Why are you doing this? What do you want?" Sam cried out angrily. The Demon smirked.

"You, Sammy." and for some reason, the only thing Sam could think about was saying '_it's Sam!'._ He figured Dean would have had a kick with that. Sam shook his head, glaring angrily at the Demon.

"Why?" he demanded. "I wanna know why!" he cried, "What is it about me? Huh? Why am I so special? What is it you want from my family, huh? Why'd you do it? My mother, my girlfriend, my family..." He shook his head again, the anger in him turning to rage. To hate. That son of a bitch killed his Mom. Killed Jess. It nearly killed Dean! And Sam wanted it dead. Now. Before it had the chance to hurt anyone else, ever again. But there was a part of him that still wanted to know, still needed to know why him.

"You wanna know why?" the Demon asked, a little amused.

"Yes!" Sam cried, and the Demon's smile widened.

"Haven't we done the whole 'I wanna know why' bit already?" it asked, clearly enjoying itself. "I'm getting a real sense of déjà vu here." It added. Sam let out an enraged cry.

"Answer me!" he demanded. The Demon stared at him for a moment, as if considering it.

"I did." It said at last, getting in Sam's personal space, its face ever so close to Sam's. "Because they got in the way of my plans for you, Sammy." It said seriously. _Yeah, what else is new?_

"What plans?" Sam demanded, "What plans!" he screamed when he wasn't answered. It only seemed to amuse the Demon farther.

"What, you haven't figured it out yet?" It asked with a smirk, backing away from Sam and leaning against one of the crates. "I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, college boy." It jibed.

"Tell me!" Sam yelled, glaring daggers at the Demon, who turned its back to Sam for a moment, walking over to lean against another crate, checking the dirt under its fingernails as it did. Sam didn't take his eyes off of the Demon.

"I must admit, I am a little disappointed." The Demon noted, "I was sure you would have figured it out by now, Sam. The clues were there." It said, looking at Sam. For a moment, there was silence between them, and then Sam raised a brow.

"You don't really have a plan, do you?" Sam asked, "You're just bored and you have something against me because I'm cuter than you, right?" _Man, since when have I started channeling Dean?_ Sam thought to himself, wishing with all his heart that his older brother was there at the moment. The Demon stared at him a moment longer, and then grinned, nearing him again.

"You, and all the others." The Demon started, looking Sam up and down. "I have big plans for you." it said, "Especially you, Sam. You're going to do what I need you to do." it said.

"Oh, yeah? And what's that?" Sam demanded angrily, "Win the lottery for you? 'Cause I gotta tell you, if I could, I'd buy a hotel chain and sleep comfortably for once, don't you think?" he cried out defiantly. The Demon would probably kill him, Sam had little doubt about that, but it didn't mean Sam would go out without a fight. No, he would give such a fight it'd make Dean proud of him.

The Demon just stared at him quietly for a moment, amused, too close for comfort. And then it smiled listlessly, taking a couple of steps back.

"No." It said in a deadly serious tone. "_You_'re going to do what I _told_ you to do." It said. Sam blinked, a little confused. And then the past tense sank in. _Did I miss something? _

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Sam demanded. The Demon smirked.

"You wanna know why?" it asked, "Fine." And something in the pit of Sam's stomach told him he'd changed his mind. He didn't want to know. What good was that going to do anyway? Dead is still dead, whether you know or not, right? And this wasn't a Bond movie, where the bad guy would tell you his evil plan and than his ridiculously redundant deathtrap would fail and he would break free in time to save the day. No, this was serious. And there weren't any hot chicks around. _Yeah, he was making Dean proud alright_. Sam swallowed hard as the Demon got in his personal space again.

"I killed them to destroy your family." It said in a low voice, and Sam wished he could put his hands over his ears and go 'lalalala' and pretend this wasn't happening. That his worst fear didn't just come to life. That the Demon wasn't saying these words to him. _No, demons lie. It was lying to him, that's all_.

"I killed them because of you," the Demon went on, "you and your brother." _Huh? Wait, back that up a second, what did you just say? Because of Dean? What does Dean have to do with any of it?_ "I killed them because you were getting strong, and I knew killing them would destroy you boys." it finished, and then smirked. "Happy now?"

Sam glowered at the Demon, narrowing his eyes. He wanted it dead. He wanted it to sit through hours and hours of show tunes, and infomercials and elections propaganda, and _then_ he wanted it dead. He shook his head, gritting his teeth, refusing to give it the satisfaction.

"I killed them to get a hold on you, Sammy boy." The Demon went on slowly, and the words sliced him worse than a bullet through the heart would, worse than dying. Worse than anything. Sam shook his head in disbelief. He tried to refute the Demon's words, but it just cut him off.

"I killed them, to destroy the chance you had of escaping me. So you will do what I want you to do." it said, and paused for dramatic effect. "So you will kill your brother for me." It said. Sam's heart missed a beat. He blinked, gasping, his stomach churning.

"What? No!" he cried, shocked, appalled. And then the Demon laughed. _God, please let this be a joke. Please let it just be a way to taunt me_… Sam begged, wishing as hard as he could.

"What did you think, Sammy boy, that it was all about you? A little selfish, aren't we?" the Demon laughed again. Sam couldn't find his words. He figured Dean would probably have something to say about that, too. _God, Dean! Man, I'm sorry! I am so sorry I didn't listen to you! I wish you were here, big brother, I really do!_

"If you wanted my brother dead so much, why didn't you just kill him? You had your chance, back at the cabin, you could have killed him!" Sam spat, shuddering at the visual image of his brother being ripped apart. There were plenty of opportunities for the Demon to take Dean, but it hadn't. Maybe it was lying. Maybe it was just toying with his mind… _Dear God, please let it just be toying with my mind_…

"Because I want _you_ to kill him." The Demon said slowly, emphasizing every word, and it felt like each word was driving a knife through Sam's heart. He shook his head defiantly.

"I'll never do it! I'll never hurt my brother!" he yelled angrily. But that just brought a smile to the Demon's lips.

"Oh, really?" it asked, and the words and the amused tone made chills run up and down Sam's spine. He could taste the bile rising, gritting his teeth to fight the panic building inside of him. The Demon got nearer, and every fiber in Sam's body screamed at him to run, but he couldn't. "Because it looks to me you're doing a damn fine job, Sammy. Almost got the job done five years ago." The Demon said. _No. That's a lie. Five years ago? No way. Impossible_.

"What? What are you talking about? Five years ago? I didn't…"

"You left, didn't you?" the Demon interrupted him. Sam felt like he had been sucker punched. He couldn't swallow, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. The implication that his leaving had anything to do with a demonic plan, that by leaving he had left Dean wide open for the Demon to attack – it was inconceivable. It was impossible. _He just left to go to college. People go to college all the time!_ Dean understood that. He had wanted Sam to be happy, he always said so.

_Oh, please, Sam, he's totally playing with you_, a voice inside his mind, his brother's voice, told him. If it'd wanted Dean dead, Dean would have been dead by now. _Right?_ Right. So… why didn't it _feel_ right?

Sam swallowed hard. He remembered that fight he had with his dad before he'd left for college. He remembered how angry he got, he remembered everything his dad yelled at him, but Dean… Dean was quiet. It was always a bad thing when Dean got quiet.

Usually, Dean would try to stop them, get in between and force them apart. But not that night. That night, he just sat there, quietly. Sam didn't remember him saying anything, didn't remember him looking up once. He didn't even look up when Sam stalked to their room, packed his things and walked out. But then he came running after Sam, trying to appease him, to make Sam change his mind. Sam insisted that he drove him to the bus stop. He didn't even say goodbye.

Sam's eyes watered. He swallowed hard, biting his lip, doing his best to stay in control. He shook his head, still refusing to give in. _He was just going to college_. "But…"

"And it was almost over." The Demon cut him off again, "Would have been, if you hadn't picked up the damned phone that time he called." It said, "He had the gun and everything, but did you do what you were supposed to?" the Demon paused for a second, and Sam couldn't hold his tears anymore. "No." the Demon went on, disappointment in its voice. "No, you decided to pick up."

Sam hadn't meant to pick up the phone that time, that one time he talked to his brother in the four years he was away. He had been expecting a call from his friends; they were supposed to meet up and study together. The phone didn't have caller ID or he never would have picked up.

Finding out it was his brother on the other side of the line was a shocking surprise. He wasn't sure if it had been a good surprise or a bad one. He'd worked so hard to stop thinking of Dean, he hated to be sucked back in, but on the other hand, it was a proof of life of sorts. Dean was still alive, and he was still okay.

They had a stupid, nonsense of a conversation, never getting past the small talk. Dean had asked how he was doing, if California was treating him well, if there were hot chicks around, if Sam was happy… He had said he just wanted things to be okay between the two of them. Sam told him they were, and that he had to go. Dean promised he'd call again, but Sam got caller ID and didn't answer his calls again.

"First and last time you answered when he called." The Demon pressed on, and the tears fell down Sam's cheeks, unchecked. _He should have answered the phone, he should have talked to Dean more often. He should have talked to Dean. God, Dean, you kill this bastard! You finish this! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I left, and I'm so sorry I left again, Dean, I really am!_

"Still, kept the bastard going for a while." The Demon turned away and Sam closed his eyes, trying to block the sites and sounds away. "I must say, Sammy, I was a little disappointed in you." the Demon admitted, and then smirked. Sam shook his head again. _He's lying, Sam. It's just trying to get to you. Don't let it get to you!_

"No! No, I don't believe you! Dean would never…"

"Wouldn't he?" Sam fought with everything he had. He needed to get away from this wall; he had to get the hell away from here. He couldn't stay here, listening to this, for one more second. But he couldn't get free. "Your brother needs a reason, Sam. Something to give his life meaning, a reason to keep going. A way to make peace with his life, if you will. And for some stupid, sentimental reason, he chose you, Sammy. And that just couldn't have been better for us, could it?" it made Sam sick, the twisted pleasure the Demon took from it.

"Why are you doing this? What do you want from us?" Sam demanded.

"You know exactly what I want from you, Sammy." It deadpanned.

"Tell me what you want from Dean!" Sam screamed.

"He pissed me off!" the Demon snapped. Sam blinked. It took a moment for the words to sink. He blinked again, frowning.

"What?"

"Oh, come on, Sammy, your brother must have pissed off half of Creation, you can't be that surprised." The Demon said coolly.

"Because he killed your kids?" Sam asked in a small voice. The lights around them flickered, some never coming back on, and the room grew darker. Sam's heart was pounding hard against his chest. He didn't need to look at the Demon to feel the waves of anger emanating from it.

"And he will suffer for that." The Demon promised ominously.

"But that didn't happen five years ago!" Sam said a moment later, "It happened seven months ago!"

"Oh, he pissed me off long before that." The demon said in a quiet, lethal voice. "He pissed me off twenty eight years ago!" Sam frowned. It didn't add up.

"But… Twenty eight years ago he was just…" and then it clicked. "Oh." He added in a small voice. _Well, he certainly did not see _that _coming_, Sam thought to himself with a sigh, _just leave it to Dean to piss off a demon at the tender age of six months. Good ole Dean, never fails to get on someone's nerves…_

"No one escapes me. No one." the Demon said darkly.

"Actually, my brother did. Twice, now that I think about it. Oh, wait, I guess it was more than that!" Sam could feel the grin making its way to his face. His brain told him that being pinned to a wall, unable to move, with no weapon that would harm the Demon and with it standing right there, smiling was probably not the smart thing to do. But he couldn't help it. It was just so _Dean_…

"Maybe." The Demon scowled, "But not for long. Not anymore. You're going to take care of that." It said, pinning Sam with its gaze. Sam shook his head.

"I will never help you! I will never hurt my brother!" he promised. The Demon raised a brow, looking rather bored.

"Haven't we done that already?" it asked dryly.

"You'd have to kill me first!" Sam yelled. The Demon seemed to consider this. It bobbed its head in a yes/no nod.

"Now, there's an idea." It said, "See, it's not like I can't kill him myself. It's not that I can't send any of my children to kill him. It's not that we can't possess a pathetic semi driver into hitting him at full speed." The Demon didn't even try to hide its smirk. Sam gasped, his heart racing, and glowered at the Demon, fighting to be free from its hold so he could kill it, the Colt be damned. "But this way…" the Demon went on, it's smirk widening, "It's fun." It finished. Sam clenched his jaws, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying with everything he had to be free of his invisible restraints. "And if you die, if you die for him…" the Demon got dangerously close again, "Now that's something to think about." It said, and then took a couple of steps back, leaning against a crate again and visibly enjoying Sam's suffering. "Thing is, Sammy, you might just come in handy one of these days. Psychics are really fun to possess, you know? All those little abilities…" it smirked, and Sam imagined just how wonderful it would be to wipe that satisfied smirk off its face.

"I'll die before I'll help you!" Sam screamed at it, glaring so ferociously that, if looks could kill, there would be no need for the Colt.

"Oh, such big words, college boy. It's a shame you won't remember them. You didn't five years ago…" the Demon smirked, thoroughly enjoying the look of abject horror on Sam's face. "You'll kill your brother for me, Sammy, because that's what you were meant to do." it said somberly. The lights flickered again, this time completely dying out as the Demon approached Sam with a wide grin.

Sam screamed. The pain was blinding. No part of his body was spared the excruciating agony the Demon was inflicting upon him. He tried to fight, he tried to resist.

He blacked out.

* * *

Sam blinked a couple of times in the darkness. He was lying on something cold and hard, probably the floor. He grimaced as he pushed himself to his side, trying to get to his feet. The world was spinning too fast. Sam settled for a seating position as he looked around him. 

There were huge crates and boxes everywhere. He figured it must be a warehouse of some sort. There were a few spots of light in the distance, a few light bulbs that hadn't burnt out probably, but their light was no way near enough to light up the large place. It was rather chilly, and smelled of damp, decay and neglect.

Sam struggled to his feet, blinking a few more times until the world stopped spinning. His stomach protested this sudden change in position, making its protest known by sending Sam back to his knees and reintroducing him to everything he had eaten in the past few hours. Sam coughed and spit a couple of times, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

_Where the hell am I?_ Sam wondered, slowly climbing to his wobbly feet again. He called out for Dean. If they were on some sort of hunt, Dean probably won't be too far away. He called out for his brother again, grimacing at the soreness of his throat.

He startled when the cell phone in his pocket started ringing. Fishing it out with shaky hands, Sam stared at the screen for a second, seeing his brother's number flashing. _Oh, good_, Sam thought as he flipped the phone open.

"Sam? Sam, where the hell are you?" Sam ran his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath. _Dean sounded furious. Why did Dean sound so furious?_ "Sam, can you hear me?" Dean asked, and this time, there was worry laced in his voice along with the anger.

"Yeah, I think so." Sam said slowly.

"You think so? Where the hell are you?" Dean demanded. Sam looked around again.

"I dunno." He said.

"What?" Sam took a couple of unsteady steps, trying to get a better look of his surroundings. "Sam, can you hear me?" there was a stain on the floor not far from him. A large stain, a puddle really. "Sam, where are you?" Dean demanded.

"I'm not sure." Sam answered distractedly. There was something dripping from above. He raised his eyes.

He dropped the phone.

"NO!" he cried in horror at the site of Lynn pinned to the ceiling. Her eyes were open, a look of shock and horror frozen on her face, blood dripping from the large gash to her abdomen. And then the flames broke out, engulfing her body and quickly spreading.

"Sam? Sam, what's going on? Sam, are you there?" Dean was yelling at him from his discarded phone. Sam fell to his knees, watching in horror as Lynn's body was quickly consumed by the blaze. "Sam, answer me, Goddamit!" swallowing hard, Sam picked up the phone.

"I don't know." He whispered, "Dean, I don't know. It… it looks like a warehouse. I don't… Dean, I don't remember how I got here. And Lynn, she's up on the ceiling and there's fire everywhere…" Sam choked in a gravelly voice. "I was too late. God, Dean, I was too late…" Sam said hauntingly, tears streaking his cheeks as the blaze around him intensified.

"Sam, you get out of there, you hear me? Sammy? Get the hell out of that place! Sammy!" Sam nodded lightly, even though Dean couldn't see it, and stumbled back to his feet, walking dazedly this way and that, not even sure where the exit was. "Sam, answer me! Do you hear me? Sam!" his brother's voice barely penetrated the haze in his mind. "Sammy!"

"I don't know," Sam muttered, shielding his face as the flames danced around him.

"Don't know? Don't know what?"

"How to get out. I don't know which way…" Sam said.

"Sammy, listen to me, alright? Look at the smoke, is the smoke going anywhere?" Dean asked hastily. Sam looked up watching wisps of smoke making their way to his left. "Sammy?" Dean pushed on frantically.

"Yeah. Yes, I think so." Sam said thickly.

"Okay. Okay, that's good, Sam. Follow the smoke, it'll lead you out. Just get out of there, okay? And keep talking to me, don't hang up the phone."

"Dean, I don't know if I can…" Sam admitted brokenly, his eyes going to the blackened mass on the ceiling, the charred body that was once a woman.

"Yes, you can!" Dean said authoritatively, "Yes, you can, Sammy. You listen to me, and you get out of there, you hear me?"

"Dean…"

"I'm already on my way, Sammy, just get out of there and wait for me, okay? I'm coming Sam, just get out of there, now!"

"Okay." Sam said, choking on the smoke, and started looking for the exit. _Dean was coming. Dean will fix this. Dean will make everything better_.

TBC

A/N: Dean's back! And Lynn's gone :) One more chapter left, and then the epilogue. Please review!


	23. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer**: I still do not own Supernatural or the lovely Winchesters.

Warning: Some language – the boys don't really watch their mouths when they're angry – and some disturbing thoughts. This chapter is intense, guys - but this is definitely NOT a deathfic!

A/N: There's a slight reference to my story 'Seven Days' in this chapter. You don't have to read it to understand what's going on, but it'll help.

Chapter Twenty Two

Last time on 'I Wanna Know Why'…

_"Why are you doing this? What do you want from us?" Sam demanded._

_"You know exactly what I want from you, Sammy." It deadpanned._

_"Tell me what you want from Dean!" Sam screamed._

_"He pissed me off!" the Demon snapped. Sam blinked. It took a moment for the words to sink. He blinked again, frowning._

_"What?"_

_"Oh, come on, Sammy, your brother must have pissed off half of Creation, you can't be that surprised." The Demon said coolly._

_"Because he killed your kids?" Sam asked in a small voice. The lights around them flickered, some never coming back on, and the room grew darker. Sam's heart was pounding hard against his chest. He didn't need to look at the Demon to feel the waves of anger emanating from it._

_"And he will suffer for that." The Demon promised ominously._

_"But that didn't happen five years ago!" Sam said a moment later, "It happened seven months ago!"_

_"Oh, he pissed me off long before that." The demon said in a quiet, lethal voice. "He pissed me off twenty eight years ago!" Sam frowned. It didn't add up._

_"But… Twenty eight years ago he was just…" and then it clicked. "Oh." He added in a small voice. _Well, he certainly did not see that coming, Sam thought to himself with a sigh, just leave it to Dean to piss off a demon at the tender age of six months. Good ole Dean, never fails to get on someone's nerves_…_

_"No one escapes me. No one." the Demon said darkly._

_"Actually, my brother did. Twice, now that I think about it. Oh, wait, I guess it was more than that!" Sam could feel the grin making its way to his face. His brain told him that being pinned to a wall, unable to move, with no weapon that would harm the Demon and with it standing right there, smiling was probably not the smart thing to do. But he couldn't help it. It was just so _Dean_…_

_"Maybe." The Demon scowled, "But not for long. Not anymore. You're going to take care of that."_

* * *

Sam startled awake, breathing hard. He was soaked in sweat, his long hair clinging to his forehead. He blinked a couple of times, trying to get rid of the images that have been plaguing his sleep for the past week and a half. Seeing Lynn die like that brought it all back. 

He was dreaming about Jess again, but it wasn't just her this time. He was dreaming about his mother and about Lynn too, and even about Sarah. If the Demon went after Lynn just because she was seeing him, what would stop it from going after Sarah, too? And every other woman he ever met, will ever meet. Sam couldn't take it. He couldn't take the blame, the guilt, the pain.

"You know, this has got to stop." Dean said in a soft voice. Sam blinked a couple more times, turning away from his brother.

"I'm fine." He protested.

"Uh huh." Dean said tiredly, pushing away from the desk where he had been sitting, busy with research for their new gig, thankfully well outside of Texas and nowhere near Armain. "Sam, those nightmares… We can't, you can't do this again. This was not your fault!"

"Don't," Sam stopped him, "Just… don't, okay?"

"Sam,"

"I'm serious, Dean. Stay out of this one, okay?" Sam snapped. Dean gave him a long look.

"Yeah, alright." He said placidly, though it was obvious he didn't mean it.

"So, d'you find anything?" Sam asked, scrubbing his face. Dean stared at him for a moment before closing the laptop.

"Yes, this coffee should be exorcised. Man, decaf is better than this stuff." He said, getting up and stretching. "Anyway, I can't keep my eyes open any longer." He added. "I have no idea why this guy's sticking around. I've been checking him out for the past five hours, and so far his life was so boring I'd think he'd shoot himself just to spice things up a little." He said with a slight grin, but the glare Sam shot his way made it pretty clear he didn't think it was funny. "Yeah, alright. Anyway, I'm turning in."

"You found out where he was buried though, right?" Sam asked, getting out of bed.

"Yes." Dean said simply, changing into sweats before getting in his own bed. "Sam, this is a salt and burn. There's nothing else there. Go to sleep." He said.

"I will." Sam lied.

"Anytime tonight?" Dean questioned and Sam glared at him. "Alright…" Dean relented, trying to give Sam the time and space he needed to cope with everything he'd been through. Dean sure did want to figure out exactly what had happened back in the warehouse. Sam still couldn't remember a thing from after he had left his motel room and until he woke up in that warehouse.

* * *

"Sam, come on, wake up." Sam startled awake, a cry escaping his lips. He blinked a couple of times until his eyes focused on Dean, crouching next to him. "Hey, it's okay. It was just a nightmare, Sammy." Dean said softly, looking up at his baby brother. 

"The hell do you know?" Sam snapped, scowling, and got up from the desk where he had apparently fallen asleep. He stalked into the bathroom, locking himself inside.

He just needed some time, some space, why couldn't Dean get that? He was sick of this, all of this. He was tired of getting hurt, of seeing the people he loved and cared for getting hurt, getting killed. And it was his fault. No matter what Dean said, it was his fault. Mom was dead because of him. Jess, Lynn… their deaths are on his head. He had almost lost Dean because of that Demon and its plans for him. And Sam just couldn't take it anymore.

Other people, normal people, they don't have to deal with this. They don't know, they have no idea what it feels like to be on the Reaper's shortlist their entire lives. They don't know what it's like to live in fear that every day could be the day they lose their family, for good. They don't know what it feels like to be responsible for destroying your family.

Sam sank to the floor, his back against the door. He can't take it anymore. He doesn't want to. And that's when he decided. He won't take it anymore. He won't put anyone else's life at risk anymore. If the Demon wants him, let it come and get him. But he can't have any more people dying because of him. He won't.

His mind made up, he braced himself, getting up. Dean will probably not take it too well, but Sam didn't care. He'd seen Dean die – literally die. If they had gotten to that hospital just five minutes later, he would have lost his brother for good. Dean would have died, because of him. Sam couldn't risk it happening again. And it was time he did something about that.

* * *

"You're what?" Dean asked after a long moment of awkward silence. 

"I'm leaving." Sam repeated resolutely. "I'm going back to school."

"Now?" Dean smiled a little panicked smile. "But we still have work to do." he tried.

"You said it yourself, Dean. There'll always be work to do, there'll always be something to hunt. But I'm done. I'm out. I can't do this anymore. I won't." Sam said firmly. Dean stared at him in disbelief for a moment.

"But… What about the Demon?" he asked eventually, his voice a little raspy, "I thought you wanted revenge," he said, "I thought you wanted to kill the sonofabitch that killed Mom. That killed Jess!"

"I do!" Sam cried, "I did!" his voice cracked, "Dean, I can't. I can't do this anymore. I can't… I can't stand it anymore. Lynn, dying like that… It shouldn't have happened! I should have been able to stop it!" he said angrily.

"Sam, it wasn't your fault! You didn't kill her!"

"Yes, I did!" Sam yelled, and Dean visibly flinched. "She's dead because of me, Dean! If she never would have met me, she'd still be alive, and you know it!"

"Sam…"

"No!" Sam raised his hand, stopped Dean from saying anything more. "No, I stopped. I left this life. I stopped hunting, and I left! And you know what? Nothing bad happened! It was quiet and normal and no one died!" Sam yelled.

"Sam, just because you didn't see anyone die doesn't mean no one died!"

"No," Sam shook his head. "I stopped hunting, and bad things stopped happening." Sam said in a shaky voice, blinking the wetness in his eyes away. "And then you come out of nowhere, you break into my apartment, and you drag me with you to Jericho, you drag me back into this world, and what happens? Huh?" Sam accused, "Jessica died!" he yelled. Dean paled. He blinked, but said nothing. "If I'd stayed, if I hadn't gone with you, if I didn't go back to hunting, she'd still be alive!"

"You don't know that!" Dean interfered. Sam shook his head, a mirthless smile on his lips.

"Jess died because I started hunting again." He said in a small voice. "And Lynn…"

"Sam, that's just ridiculous, and you know it!" Dean cried. "Look, I understand things are messed up right now. I get that you're feeling guilty, and that it sucks being you and all, but you need to get it in your thick skull that this is not your fault! You didn't ask the Demon to come! You didn't say 'hey, that's my girlfriend, wanna barbeque her?' No, you tried to protect her…"

"No, I didn't." Sam stopped him. "I left her, just like I left Lynn. I knew it was coming for her and I left!"

"Yes, you left! And took care of an evil spirit and saved who knows how many people's lives because of it!" Dean countered.

"I don't care!" Sam yelled. "You don't get it! You never get it!" Dean opened his mouth to say something, but the words didn't come out. He gave a slight nod.

"Then explain it to me." He said in a small, strangled voice. Sam let out a short laugh, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

"God, Dean… Explain it to you? Are you serious?" Dean didn't answer, and Sam went on, "How can I possibly explain it to you?" he demanded. "I had a good life, a normal life, for once! I was doing so well, Dean. I had friends, real friends. I was doing great at school, hell, I was going to get married! Married! Do you get that?" Sam yelled. "And then _you_ show up, out of nowhere, and everything goes to hell! The minute I get pulled back into… this," he tossed his hands in the air, "into this life, everything goes to hell!"

"Sam, don't you think you're a little overreacting here? I mean, yes, we probably don't have the kind of life people fantasize over, but…"

"Fantasize over? Are you serious?" Sam burst, "This is worse than most people's nightmares, Dean! Do you get that? Normal people's nightmares are better than this!" Sam turned away from his brother, running his hands through his hair and crossing then behind his head. He shook his head. "I'm done." He said, "I can't do this anymore. I won't. I don't want to live like this, Dean, I never have. I want to go back to California. I want to forget this… all of this ever happened."

Dean was quiet for a couple of moments before he finally gave a slight nod. "Okay," he said, "We'll get this job done and then…"

"No!" Sam cut him off again. "We won't get this job done! Haven't you been listening to anything I've been saying? God, you're just like dad! You won't listen to anyone unless they're saying what you want to hear!" Sam yelled. "You want to go after this Demon? You go ahead! Just leave me out of it!" he cried, "I don't want to hunt anymore! I want my life back! I want out! Now!" he yelled. He didn't notice the raw emotion on Dean's face before it went completely blank, rigid. Dean bit his lip, looking away.

"Pack your stuff." Dean said gruffly, turning away from the younger hunter, going over to his own duffle.

"Dean, I'm not going on another hunt!" Sam said assertively.

"Yeah, I heard you." Dean said simply, his voice thick. "Go pack your shit, I'll drive you to Stanford." He said, "Or would you rather take the bus again?" Dean asked. For the slightest of moments, something about Dean screamed at Sam to take it all back, to change his mind, to stay here with Dean, but whatever it was, it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

* * *

Both brothers packed their few belongings in silence and got in the car. It was nearly five in the morning. The sun hadn't come up yet. It was quiet all around, almost serene, but the silence in the car was anything but peaceful. It was tensed, charged. 

Their longest conversations in the following three days consisted of takeout orders and motel check-ins. They were already in Palo Alto, near minutes from the campus when Sam realized Dean has never been this quite for this long before. Ever. There was something wrong. He turned to look at his older brother and say something, but Dean beat him to it.

"So you got a place to stay here?" he asked, not looking at Sam.

"I guess. I'm going to stay in the dorms, I think. And if there're no rooms available, I guess I could crash at Zack's for a while." Sam said, and Dean gave a slight nod.

"You got money?" he asked. Sam nodded.

"Some." He said, "I'll get a job." He added a moment later. "So, Dean…"

"You need help with your stuff?" Dean asked, and Sam noticed he just pulled the car over. Sam stared at the older hunter. This was the most conversation they had in days. That's not what he wanted, that's not what he meant when he said he wanted out. This wasn't going to be like the last time, they were going to keep in touch. _Dean knew that, right?_ "Sam? You need help with your stuff?" Dean asked again.

"No." Sam answered. It wasn't like he had too many things to begin with.

"Fine." Dean said flatly. Sam opened the car door, stepping out, only to realize Dean wasn't following suit. He stopped, looking back at Dean.

"You know, we, um, we could keep in touch." He said, "I'll call you." Sam said, but Dean still kept his eyes straight ahead, not looking at his younger brother. He clenched his jaw, saying nothing. "And… You can call me, if you want." Sam added, "It's just… I can't live like that anymore…" he tried to explain, but Dean stopped him.

"Yes, fine, Sam. I got that the first dozen times you said that." He said curtly. "Now, you gonna go, or are you going to miss another semester getting out of the car?" he snapped. Sam frowned.

"Aren't you coming with me?" he asked. Dean kept his eyes straight ahead, popping the trunk open. Well, there was one upside to getting a new car – he didn't have to leave the car to open the trunk. Sam smiled bitterly and went to take his things from the back. As soon as he closed the trunk, Dean was off, driving away. He didn't even give Sam the chance to say goodbye.

Sam stared after the car in disbelief long after it was gone, but then just shook his head, shouldering his duffle and backpack, as he made his way to the administration office in the campus. He had called ahead, but there were plenty of arrangements to take care of; re-enrolling, getting a place to stay, finding a job, catching up on some reading… There was still time before the semester started, but Sam was eager to start his new life.

* * *

Dean never turned the engine off. He waited for Sam to get out of the car, for him to take his things, and then he drove away. This time, it was his turn to leave without goodbye, to leave on his own terms. 

He told himself that it didn't matter, life will go on with or without his brother by his side. It wasn't like Dean didn't know it was coming, Sam has been kind enough to constantly remind him he had no intention of staying. Hell, just a couple of weeks ago Sam had walked out on him while he was asleep. Just like dad did. Worse. They had argued, they had _agreed_ to do something, something Sam didn't want to do, so he up and left. No goodbye, no note, not even a phone call. Just left, while Dean had been asleep, no less. While Dean had no chance to argue, or even to change his own mind and tag along with Sam.

_They don't need you. Not like you need them._

Sam never wanted to stay with him, he has made that clear from the start. The past couple of years weren't spent together for Dean's sake. It was never for his sake. Sam was staying with him because he needed Dean to help him get to the Demon that killed his girlfriend, because he needed a car and some money, and Dean had them, or knew how to get them.

_And then you show up, out of nowhere, and everything goes to hell! The minute I get pulled back into… this! Into this life, everything goes to hell!_

Sam blamed him. He blamed him for Jess's death. He hated him.

_God, you're just like dad! You won't listen to anyone unless they're saying what you want to hear!_

Maybe that was true. But can't he _ever_ get what he wants? Is it so horrible to want something for himself? Dad does, he wants revenge. He doesn't care about anything else. He doesn't care about his family. He doesn't care if the hunt will destroy them. He doesn't care that it already has. And Sam does, too. He wants normal. He wants to leave and never look back. Like he did before. He would have stayed gone if it weren't for Dean dragging him back.

_Normal people's nightmares are better than this. I want to go back to California. I want to forget this… all of this ever happened_.

No one cared about their broken, dysfunctional family, no one but him. Dad has never really been a Dad. He has never been there when Dean really needed him. Not once. No matter how hard Dean had tried, he was never good enough.

_Even when they fight, it's more concern then he's ever shown you…_

Sam has always been John's favorite. It was always about protecting Sam, never about protecting Dean. Dean didn't matter, not to his dad, anyway. And not to Sam. Hell, Dean was practically invisible to the both of them. He never forgot that time he went out for air and was attacked and taken by a Rawhead. They didn't even come looking for him. They didn't care. No one really did. Not even Cassie. The only person he'd ever allowed himself to love, the only person he'd ever allowed himself to see a future with.

_Dean, you told me that story—and it scared the hell outta me. I thought you were nuts. Dangerous, even. Actually, maybe I was looking for a reason to walk away…_

Everyone always knew Sam was the one going places. He always had the grades and the big plans and all these expectations out of life. It didn't matter to anyone the only reason Sam could get the grades he did, could have the time to make all those big plans, was because of Dean. Sam always wanted the big house with the picket fence and the cars, and the wife and kids. He had always wanted normal. And there was a time Dean had wanted that, too. More than anything. He had the grades, he had gotten into college. But he stayed, to make sure his family was taken care of. He stayed because they needed him. They always knew Dean was never going places.

_Dean, we _are _a family. I'd do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before… I don't want them to be. I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me go my own way_.

Sam had no problem leaving, though, time and time again. He had no problem staying gone. He probably never would have invited Dean to his wedding, either. He didn't even tell Dean that he was thinking about getting married. No, Dean had to find out from a demon, no less. And why would Sam tell him, invite him, anyway? He still blames him for Jess's death, probably has all along. And besides, Dean's a freak, and Sam only likes normal. He always has. Sam never came back because of Dean.

_You and me. We're all that's left. So, if we're gonna see this through, we're gonna do it together…_

_What a load of crap that was_. Dean bit his lip, his eyes on the road. He was driving aimlessly for hours now. He had nowhere to go. Jim was gone, Caleb was gone. He had no one left. Not one person that would care about him. _Yeah, and that was worth Marshal Hall's and Layla's lives_… He thought bitterly to himself. A great bargain, their lives for his.

_Why are you still even here? You got what you wanted! Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?_

He doesn't. Roy had made a mistake. He should have healed Layla instead. She was much more deserving than he was. That way he wouldn't have to live knowing he was responsible for her death. For marshal hall's death. That way he'd die thinking Sam cared about him, that he was really trying his best to help Dean just for the sake of helping Dean… What a joke.

_What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I'd sleep for a month. Go back to school—be a person again…_

So what, just because he didn't go to college, just because he didn't live a nine to five life, did that mean he wasn't a person? For a moment, Dean considering tossing his cell phone out the window. But what's the point of that? He needed a phone, and buying a new one with a fake credit card isn't all that easy. He will change the number, though. They didn't need him? Fine. They could do without him. They've used him enough. He had left them before, he should have just stayed gone. He should never have come back.

_But there's got to be somethin' that you want for yourself…_

There used to be. There used to be so many things he wanted. He couldn't even remember most of them now. He did want to go to college, he used to want more than this, too. But he was stupid enough to believe his family mattered more. That they needed him, wanted him to stay. Sam was right, he was an idiot. He never should have come back. He never should have left all his dreams in that runaway shelter, he should have followed them through. Maybe if he had, he'd have a family now. Maybe he'd matter.

Dean looked at John's journal, laying on the passenger seat. There were a few newspaper clippings there, a few hunts he thought about checking out. And there was still that unfinished job they'd left behind. He might as well go back, finish it on his own. This was his life after all.

Saving people, hunting things… The family business. Making sure others don't have to go through the same hell he's been living the past twenty four years. And besides, killing as many sons of bitches as he could find always helps to cheer him up.

TBC

A/N: Don't be too mad with Sammy, he is under demonic influence, after all. Only the epilogue left now… Please review!


	24. Epilogue

A/N: First of all, thanks to everyone of you who reviewed, you really helped me keep going! This story was _very_ difficult to write, so thanks again!

Second, I apologize for not updating sooner. I meant to post this a week ago, but ffn was giving me trouble, so I decided to wait a little longer... Sorry...

Also, no Deans were hurt during the writing of this fic. Sam, however, had a paper cut, a really bruised ego, and one hell of a hangover... ;)

I hope you enjoyed the ride, and please review !

Chapter Twenty Three - Epilogue

Last time on 'I Wanna Know Why'…

_"You're what?" Dean asked after a long moment of awkward silence._

_"I'm leaving." Sam repeated resolutely. "I'm going back to school."_

_"Now?" Dean smiled a little panicked smile. "But we still have work to do." he tried._

_"You said it yourself, Dean. There'll always be work to do, there'll always be something to hunt. But I'm done. I'm out. I can't do this anymore. I won't."_

* * *

It's been three weeks since Sam returned to Stanford, and life was good. He smoothed things up with the dean of admissions and got himself re-enrolled, he moved back into the dorms and immediately clicked with his new roommate. He even got a job at a nearby pizza place. His classes will start soon enough, and Sam found himself looking forward to it. Things were coming together, finally. Sam couldn't remember why he's ever left here in the first place. 

His roommate, Tyler, reminded him a lot of his brother. That is, had Dean chosen to go to pre-med instead of hunting. Tyler was pretty good looking, a smart mouth, and loved to party. He managed to drag Sam with him to one of the parties, and it's a good thing he did, because, _man, did he miss out the first time around_.

He kept having this nagging feeling that there was something missing, but he couldn't put his finger on it. This was _so_ not like the first time he had gone to college. There was no guilt this time – Dean had let him go, they didn't fight. Everything was alright between them. And there was no awkwardness – he's done this before; he knew the right things to say now, the right places to be. And thanks to Dean, he definitely knew the right beer to drink and the right way to play pool.

Yes, this time he was going to do this right. In the past three weeks, he's already made at least as many friends as he had the last time he was here. They didn't know about Jess, so there wasn't the awkwardness involved with that, and he didn't mind talking about his family this time around. Of course, he didn't really tell them the truth, but it was still better. Life was definitely looking up.

Until the first vision came, that is. And it didn't just come, it came with a punch strong enough to knock Sam out cold and leave a pounding headache for hours later. Sam had trouble understanding the spinning images. Breathless and in pain, he had called his brother. There was no answer.

Sam barely made it to the bathroom before he started throwing up, nearly passing out again. He somehow managed to crawl back into bed. And the next thing he knew, it was morning, and he felt like he had had a couple dozens of beers the previous nights.

It took a few hours for Sam to remember the vision. Only, it wasn't exactly a vision. Then again, they have been weird lately, so he couldn't be sure. He saw Lynn on the ceiling – that couldn't have been a vision, since Lynn was dead now. She died on the ceiling, as a matter of fact. And there were other things. Things he couldn't make sense of. High school things. Staying late after soccer practice because Dean hadn't come to pick him up, talking to a strange man in dark sunglasses after sundown… It was too strange. It had never happened, so why was he seeing this?

He remembered that day though, the day Dean was late to pick him up because dad got himself arrested and Dean had to bail him out with the money Dean had put away for that guitar he had had his eyes on for months. And then dad was angry with Dean for not picking Sam up in time. Yes, Sam remembered that day. He remembered how quiet Dean had been, and how he just wanted to be left alone. Sam remembered that day very well, because that was the first time he seriously thought about going to college to get the hell away from his family. He just couldn't remember any creepy guy in sunglasses.

* * *

The visions, nightmares - or whatever else they might have been – didn't end with that painful first one. No, there were others. Most of them alike, most of them featured the weird sunglasses guy and something bad happening to Dean. It took Sam a long time to figure it out. An entire week, with up to four of these 'visions' per day. Sam had to tell Tyler he was suffering from migraines to get him off his back. But Sam finally figured it out. He finally understood. He remembered. And then had a panic attack of massive proportions. 

_I'll never do it! I'll never hurt my brother!_

_It looks to me you're doing a damn fine job, Sammy. Almost got the job done five years ago… You left, didn't you? And it was almost over._ _Would have been, if you hadn't picked up the damned phone that time he called… He had the gun and everything…_

Sam used to think it was impossible. Dean would never do something that stupid. Dean would never hurt himself. Dean would never give up.

_You left, didn't you? And it was almost over._

Every time the sunglasses guy showed up, Dean was hurt – but never physically. And then Sam thought about the past few months, ever since the accident. Thought back to Dean's nightmares and the fact he didn't seem so enthusiastic about hunting the Demon anymore. Dean's been hunting for this Demon his whole life. After what happened at the cabin Sam figured they all wanted that Demon dead even more. But Dean… It was almost like he was scared of facing it again. It made no sense at all.

Sam kept thinking about it. About how, even after he had found out what was physically wrong with his brother, there was still something off about Dean. Dean didn't _have_ nightmares, that was Sam's private little hell, and Dean wasn't allowed in. Sam had to think hard to remember the last time Dean had had a nightmare before the accident. Before their brush with the Demon.

It came down to the simple conclusion. Something was still hurting his brother. The Demon was still hurting his brother, pushing him to the edge – and waiting for Sam to push him over it.

_Your brother needs a reason, Sam. Something to give his life meaning, a reason to keep going. A way to make peace with his life, if you will. And for some stupid, sentimental reason, he chose you, Sammy. And that just couldn't have been better for us, could it?_

And God, he left. He pushed Dean over that edge, he just knew it…

Sam tried calling Dean again from the hospital Tyler insisted on taking him to. There was no answer.

* * *

Sam tried calling Dean again and again, with the same result. He had left countless voicemails, but Dean never called him back. 

Sam even tried calling his father – he was willing to endure the expected furious tirade about him going back to college instead of hunting for the thing that killed his mother, he was willing to risk his father's rage and alienation if it meant his dad knew where Dean was, if it meant Dean was okay.

As expected, the first phone call to his father didn't yield much. Learning that Sam has once again abandoned their quest, his father had been too angry to even listen to the reason Sam was calling. The second and third calls were about the same. On the forth call, he was finally able to get his father to listen. He had to check his ears to make sure his eardrums were intact after that call, suddenly very grateful for the distance from his father.

Two more days passed with no word from Dean, and every hour drove Sam closer to insanity, closer to his own edge. He couldn't stand the thought he was the cause of his brother's downfall. He couldn't live with the thought he might have been the reason Dean killed himself. He couldn't breathe at the thought Dean might already be _dead_.

* * *

Sam jumped at the ringing of his cell phone, answering it before it had the chance to ring again. 

"Dean?" he cried hopefully, fearfully.

"It's me, Sammy." Sam had to blink the tears of desperation away. He wiped his eyes, trying to get past the lump in his throat.

"Dad," he said thickly.

"I take it there's been no word yet." John said somberly.

"No." Sam said, forcing himself to stop shaking.

"I spoke with a couple of guys I know, I asked them to keep an eye out for the car. Could've been easier if he still had the Impala." John said in a tired voice. Sam didn't answer. It must have been another hard blow. Dean loved that car. Sam was missing it, and he didn't love it half as much as Dean did. God, how could he not have seen this coming? Why didn't he stop it? "How long has it been since you've talked to your brother?" John asked after a moment of silence. "I mean, he's changed, Sammy. He hasn't talked to me in almost three months. You need to let him cool off a bit. Maybe wait a couple more days and he'll…"

"It's been a month, dad." Sam stopped him, "I haven't spoken to Dean in a month." He said, wondering how the hell he'd let a month pass by without checking in on his brother. The first time he had gone to college, he had gotten two postcards the first month, and now nothing. Sam ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the bile rising in his throat. He forced himself to swallow it down, take a deep breath. "I really think there's something wrong, dad. I really think something's happened to him." Sam said.

"Well, I spoke to my contacts. No one's heard from him, Sammy." Sam bit his lower lip, trying to keep from crying.

"Just keep trying, dad, okay? We have to find him, we have to make sure he's okay." Sam said, his voice cracking.

"We will." John promised. "We'll find him. He'll be alright, Sam." He said, and soon after ended the call.

Sam sat on his bed, the phone still in his hand, feeling sick to his stomach.

_I don't want you to leave the second this thing's over, Sam! Why'd you think I drag you everywhere? Huh? I mean, why'd you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place? You, and me, and dad… I want us to… I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again…_

_Sam, look… the three of us, that's all we have. It's all I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holdin' it together, man…Without you and dad…_

With a shaky hand, Sam dialed Dean's number one more time, blinking the tears away when he heard his brother's voicemail.

"Dean. Dean, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it, I'm sorry! I didn't really want to leave, I… I wasn't thinking straight…" he let out a shaky breath, "I want back, man. Please, Dean, I want back. I want you to come and get me and I want us to do this together. I want us to hunt this thing together. You hear me? I want to keep hunting with you, just please, man, pick up! Please!" Sam couldn't control his tears any longer and they now streaked down his cheeks. Dean didn't pick up. He didn't call Sam back. Not now, and not after any of the dozens of messages Sam had left him before.

* * *

Sam jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest. It took him a moment to get his eyes to focus, a moment longer to realize what it was that woke him up at the ungodly hour of… 3:47 AM. His cell phone was ringing. Who the hell would be calling at nearly four in the morning? Sam thought bitterly. And then his heart raced even faster. _Dean!_ It was just like his brother to shut the entire world off for two whole weeks only to call him at four in the morning. At least he hoped it was Dean. _God, please let it be Dean and not some hospital or coroner's office..._

With trembling hands, Sam reached for his cell phone. He cried out in relief when the number on the screen was indeed his brother's. Sending a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity that was listening, Sam flipped his phone open.

"Dean?" he asked, his voice coming out more like a croak.

"Sam." That word, that one word brought Sam to tears. He laughed hysterically, still crying, his breath hitching.

"Dean! Oh, God, I'm so happy you called, man." Sam said quickly, shoving his covers aside and throwing his long legs off the bed, sitting up. "Dean, I didn't mean it. Any of it. You were right, it was a trap. It was the Demon, Dean, I remember now. It was a trap. The Demon, it's playing with us, it's playing with our minds." Sam said quickly. There was so much he needed to say, so much he needed Dean to hear. "I want back, Dean. I want to be with you." Sam said, a smile growing on his lips. Dean called. Dean is alive, and he called, and he is going to come for Sam, and then they'll both go hunt this Demon down. "Dean?" Sam asked when the silence stretched.

"No." And all the color was drained from Sam's face. His stomach lurched, his mouth went dry.

"What? Why?" Sam demanded.

"You don't need me, Sam." Dean said dryly. "You don't want back. You're happy where you are, you don't need me."

"W-No, Dean, no. You got it all wrong. You're the only thing I need. You're my family. I don't want you out of my life, man, I never did. I miss you so much… Just, please, Dean… I want back. We're good together, better than good. We make one hell of a team, you said so yourself. Just, please, man… I want back." Sam said, wondering if Dean could actually hear his heart thrumming over the phone. There was another pregnant pause before Dean asked,

"You sure?" Sam grinned, wiping his tears.

"Never been more sure of anything in my life." He said confidently. His grin faltered as the seconds passed "Dean?"

"You don't want this, Sam. You're already back at school. This is your chance. Take it. Be a lawyer. Be normal. This is your chance to be a person again, Sam. It's what you want." Dean said, and Sam flinched at his own words, being tossed at him. _Is that what it sounded like to him?_

"You're wrong. I was wrong. I don't want normal." the long pause that followed told Sam Dean wasn't buying it. "Okay, so maybe, I do. But not like this. Not all or nothing, Dean. I want my family. I want you, that's the most important thing, do you understand? We can have both worlds, Dean. It doesn't have to be black and white, all or nothing, we can have it both. We could hunt, and take a couple of months off every now and then when we get to someplace nice. We could have a home, Dean. You, and me, and... dad..." Sam swallowed, his heart beating so fast it actually hurt. There was another long pause as Dean considered Sam's words and Sam tried to stop from shaking, wiping another tear with the back of his hand.

"Well if you're so sure, you'd better get your scrawny little ass down here. I'm serious, man, if you're not in the car in ten minutes, I'm driving away." Sam's smile could have lit up an entire city.

"I'll be there in five, jerk." He said, already getting up and starting to pack.

"You know, if we're gonna do this, we've got to work on your insults, College Boy, Formally Known as Geek. Seriously, that jerk thing is getting a little tired." Dean said and Sam let out a laugh, already feeling the stress and tension ebbing away.

"Oh, and Dean?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"It's Sammy."

The End


End file.
